


Quiet

by callboxkat



Series: College AU [4]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst with a Happy Ending, Gen, Panic Attacks, selective mutism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-20
Updated: 2018-10-06
Packaged: 2019-05-09 06:42:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 24,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14711067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callboxkat/pseuds/callboxkat
Summary: Virgil tries to navigate the start of his first year of college.





	1. Deep Breaths

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place in between Torn and Tired.

_August 2017_

The young college student looked up at the building he was supposed to enter. It seemed to tower over him, intimidating and blotting out the sun. Throngs of people surged around him. Occasionally, someone would bump into him—he wasn’t moving, so he couldn’t blame them too much, although it was still jarring and annoying each time it happened—and sometimes he caught a quick apology, or scoff of disdain. One man ran into him quite hard, and he almost lost his grip on the already worn-out piece of paper in his hands.

_Deep breaths._

It was Virgil’s first day at his new college. Classes didn’t start for a few more days, and yet he was expected to take part in “Welcome Week”, meant to help him get used to the campus, the people, and college life, whatever that was supposed to be.

Perhaps it wouldn’t have been so bad, Virgil thought, had he not had to come here alone. He spotted a pair of girls who were clearly twins and silently wished he had such a person with him. Most everyone was at the welcoming ceremony with their parents, or some other relative, but not him.

No, not Virgil. Virgil was alone.

He wished his dad would have come with him, but he lived far enough away that Virgil couldn’t really blame him for not making the trip. As for his mom, well, that was a different story.

_Deep breaths._

Another shoulder met Virgil’s. He lost his grip on the map he had been worrying between his fingers for the last half hour. He watched it fly off with a quiet gasp. It was immediately swallowed by the crowd.

“Watch it!” someone said. Virgil glared darkly at them, and looking alarmed, they quickly moved away.

_Deep breaths._

So he didn’t have a map anymore. That was fine. Virgil could do this. He just had to get his feet to move—he already knew this was the right building. He had checked three times to make sure, and this was where everyone else was going.

He moved.

The welcome ceremony passed slowly. There were speeches, music, announcements. Sometimes the crowd clapped, but Virgil didn’t join them. Papers were passed out, and whoever was up at the podium announced that they were for the relatives to fill out as a short letter of encouragement for the new students to read.

“You can, of course, read them to your children as soon as you’ve finished, or put your letter in the envelope for them to read later! Some families even write letters for after graduation!”

Fifteen minutes were provided for the families to write their letters. Virgil spent them staring down at the packet in his hands. He felt cold and hot and alone and way too crowded, all at the same time.

_Deep breaths, Virgil._

He couldn’t read the packet anymore.

“You okay?” someone whispered.

Virgil didn’t look up. **No.**

“Hey,” the voice came again. Soft. Confused, maybe. “Are you okay?”

 **I’m not**.

Someone touched his shoulder gently, but Virgil tore it away sharply, more out of surprise than anything else. He stiffened his shoulders without looking at the person. All he could make out was long brown hair out of the corner of his eye.

“S—sorry, I just…” She faltered, turned away.

**I’m sorry.**

Virgil tended to put up a dark persona, to act confident and aloof and a little unkind, but that was one instance in which he hadn’t actually meant to come off as rude. It was too late now, he supposed. Oops.

The fifteen minutes ended, the letters were exchanged or put into envelopes, and the ceremony continued. Virgil almost didn’t notice when it ended, and might not have for some time had there not been an annoyed looking, middle-aged man trying to pass him on his way out of the building.

“Excuse me,” he said for what Virgil guessed was the third time.

**Sh*t. Sorry.**

Virgil awkwardly got up and moved out of the way.

The building was rapidly emptying, but Virgil had no idea where to go. His heartrate started to spike, his breath shallowing.

_Deep breaths._

Virgil looked around, trying to get his breathing under control. Where was he supposed to go? What had the woman said when she dismissed everyone?

He didn’t know what to do.

Spots started to appear in his vision.

“Hey, are you okay, kiddo?”

**NO.**

“Whoa, calm down, come here, it’s alright.”

Virgil forced his gaze up, locked onto concerned brown eyes. He tried to focus on them.

“What’s your name?”

He couldn’t breathe, let alone  _speak_. His vision swam, and the spots worsened. Virgil couldn’t feel his hands.

“Do you want to sit down? Let’s sit down for a second, okay, kiddo?”

Virgil found himself being pressed down into one of the chairs from the ceremony.

“Come on, kiddo, breathe for me, okay?”

He tried, he really did.

“Try this. Breathe in for four seconds.”

Virgil sucked in air while the older-looking student counted.

“Hold for seven seconds.” He counted again.

“Out for eight seconds.”

Virgil released the air in his lungs, feeling lightheaded.

They repeated this a few times until Virgil got his breathing under control. His vision was coming back enough that he could focus properly on the person in front of him. He realized the young man had his hands gripped in his, and Virgil pulled them sharply away. Virgil thought he saw hurt in the other’s face, but he couldn’t be sure.

The older student wore a pale polo shirt and a lanyard. He was one of the tour guides, apparently.

Oh, right, of  _course_. He was supposed to join a tour group.  **Stupid.**

“How’re we feeling, kiddo? Any better?”

**A little.**

The other student waited a couple seconds, but seemed to realize that Virgil wasn’t going to answer.

“Is your family somewhere around here?”

Virgil took a couple more deep breaths, then gestured in a slightly sarcastic fashion as if to say,  _Do you see anyone?_

The tour guide didn’t look offended. He simply nodded to himself and glanced towards the doors. “I think one of the other guides might’ve taken my tour group with them—,”

Oops. That was Virgil’s fault.

“—but that’s okay! What do you say I just show you around?”

Virgil looked up. He eyed the student slightly suspiciously, then finally nodded. What did he have to lose?

“Great! I’m Patton. I’m so happy to meet you.” 


	2. Chapter 2

Virgil trailed along behind Patton as the older student showed him around campus, filling the silence with jokes, stories, and fun facts that the school was probably paying him to tell.

In the process, Virgil got to know a little about Patton Foster.

He was a sophomore, a volunteer at the local animal shelter, and a prospective psychology major.

“I was going to be an art major, but my parents didn’t like that idea. I guess they think artists don’t make any  _Monet_. But who knows! Maybe I’ll add a minor. You should see how talented everybody here is! Do you know what you’re going to study?”

Virgil didn’t answer, but apparently Patton had stopped expecting him to by now. Virgil didn’t understand why he kept asking questions. Why was he even showing him around? Was it so that the school would still pay him even though his tour group left without him? Patton probably could have caught up with them if he tried.

Virgil was confused, but at least he wasn’t wandering around this strange place alone. Patton might have been way too cheerful, but this was better than the alternative.

“Do you know what classes you’re going to be taking this semester?”

Virgil shrugged.

“Just take some courses you’re interested in! You register tomorrow, right?”

 **Yeah.** Virgil ducked his head in what could loosely be called a nod.

“Just make sure you think about what you’re going to pick before then. A lot of courses are already full, plus what’s left goes pretty fast.” Patton glanced back, and something must have shown in Virgil’s face, for he continued, “Don’t worry, though! I know you’ll find some that you’ll like. And even if you don’t get all the classes you want, you’ll have plenty of time later. And anyway, you might be surprised how much you like something you didn’t even plan to take. My friend Roman—,”

Virgil sighed, tuning out Patton’s chatter for the moment. The tour continued for a while longer before Patton’s questions started up again.

“Are you staying in the dorms?” he asked, looking back towards Virgil.

Slowly, Virgil shook his head.

“Do you live nearby?”

Virgil stared. Of course he lived nearby.

“An apartment, maybe?”

Virgil nodded. He hadn’t actually been there yet, unfortunately. All of his stuff was still in his car, waiting to be moved in that night. Good thing he didn’t have a goldfish or plants or anything. It was pretty hot today.

Speaking of hot.

“That’s a nice hoodie you’ve got there, but isn’t it a little toasty?”

Instead of answering, Virgil stiffened and pulled black-and-gray hoodie tighter around himself. Patton wisely dropped the topic.

As they kept walking and Patton kept rambling about the different buildings, Virgil wondered how his move-in would go. He’d only spoken with his new roommate through email. He seemed a bit weird, but not terrible, although they still had yet to meet each other in person.

He knew they were going to have separate bedrooms, with locks (he’d checked), so Virgil shouldn’t have had an issue with sleeping, but….

What if he couldn’t stand his new roommate?

What if his new roommate couldn’t stand him?

What if it didn’t work out, and Virgil had to go into the dorms, where he would definitely not have a room to himself?

What if no one at school liked him?

What if he was late to class on the first day?

What if he walked into the wrong room? Virgil felt embarrassed just thinking about it.

What if he wasn’t smart enough to be here?

What if he failed out? Oh, his mom would have a field day with—

“Kiddo?”

Virgil realized he had stopped walking. Patton was well over ten feet ahead of him, looking back in confusion. The freshman shook his head to clear it and jogged slightly to catch up. He was sweating, but only partly from being overdressed for the weather.

_Deep breaths._

**Sorry. I zoned out for a second there**.

Patton smiled at Virgil when he caught up, and made sure the freshman followed when he started off again.

The tour continued until eventually they ended up at the building where they’d started. It didn’t seem so ominous now, but there was once again a crowd of students—just students, most of the parents and other family members had left by now—around it.

“Well, kiddo, I guess that’s the end of the tour. Do you know where you’re supposed to go next?”

Virgil stared at him.

“Have you got your map? The schedule’s on the back.”

Virgil thought back to earlier that day, to the man bumping into him and the wind greedily snatching the paper from his hands.

 **No, I lost it**.

Patton tilted his head when he got no response, but he seemed to understand anyway. “I think I might have an extra. Hold on for just a teensy tiny second.” He rooted around in his bag for a moment before pulling out a map, which had much crisper edges than the one Virgil had had.

“Do you want to exchange numbers, so you can text me if you have any problems this week? Or if you just want to talk?”

Virgil shrugged, and then Patton was pushing a cell phone into his hands. Feeling a little bewildered, for the sake of speed he just programmed in his number and first initial and gave it back to the other student.

“Okay, uh…” Patton looked down at the phone screen. “V! I’ll text you so you’ve got my number. You’d better get going, though, if you don’t want to be late.”

Patton waved, turned around, and started to leave.

_Now or never._

_Do it._

_DO IT._

Virgil forced his jaw open.

“Thank you,” he called out at the retreating tour guide. By some miracle, the phrase sounded almost casual even to Virgil’s ears, but Patton was already rather far away.

Patton, somehow, heard him anyway. When he turned around, his smile was so bright it was like staring at the sun.


	3. Chapter 3

“So, where exactly were you while I was catering to the needs of a tour group twice the optimum size?” Patton’s formally dressed peer asked as they waited in line at dinner.

“I had to help out another student. I’m sorry, Logan, but I’m pretty sure the poor kiddo was having a panic attack. I couldn’t leave him there.”

Logan looked back over his shoulder and straightened his glasses. “I see. In that case, I suppose I shall forgive your absence. I do feel that you would have been a more adept tour guide than myself. You seem to understand…  _people_  more than I do.”

Patton smiled. “Aw, don’t get so  _Low_ -gan!” he said, ignoring his friend’s loud groan of protest. Sure, the pun wasn’t his best, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to make it anyway.

“So, what transpired with this student you mentioned?”

“Well, you and my tour group were gone, so I just took him and showed him around campus. No big deal.”

“What’s his name?”

“Um… V? That’s what he put in my phone. I don’t know. He didn’t speak.”

“At all?”

Patton shrugged.

“That is odd.”

“Not necessarily. Some people don’t talk, and that’s perfectly fine.” Patton didn’t feel that he was one to judge. “I think he can talk, though; I’m pretty sure he thanked me for helping him.”

“Pretty sure?” Logan echoed.

Patton shrugged once more. “It was when I was leaving,” he explained as he picked out a drink. Logan nodded, and then he and Patton went to pay for their meals. 

…

They sat down with their friend Roman, a junior.

“So,” Roman said, “how were the tour groups?”

“I think you mean tour  _group_ ,” said Logan. “Since only one of us led one.”

“Hey!” Patton protested, pouting. “I was still helping.”

“I know. I did not say otherwise.”

Patton just shook his head. Logan probably really hadn’t meant to sound mean, he reminded himself. He just wasn’t always the best at dealing with emotions or knowing how to say things tactfully.

Roman, meanwhile, was glancing between them. “Did something happen?”

Patton poked at his carrots (yuck) with a fork as he explained about what had happened with V. “He was all alone, and he looked scared, so I figured I should just show him around.”

Roman hummed. “Well. I suppose I’ll probably meet your new friend at some point. Bravo, Patton. Good on you for helping him out.”

Patton grinned.

…

The remainder of the college’s welcoming activities for the day—the vast majority of which, unfortunately, were mandatory no matter how little Virgil desired to be there—passed uneventfully. He managed to hold onto the map that Patton had given him, so he didn’t get lost or lose track of where he was supposed to be. That was a relief.

Their dinner was a sort of outdoor picnic, with prepacked lunches on a long table for the new students to grab. Virgil grabbed a box at random, and when he sat down by himself in the grass, he saw that he’d accidentally grabbed one of the vegetarian meals. Whoops.

He didn’t feel like going back, and from the look of it, the school had made considerably more than enough of the lunches than the population of vegetarian freshmen could possibly need, so he just kept it. It didn’t taste half bad.

After dinner, all that was left on the school’s Welcome Week schedule for that day was an optional concert that Virgil didn’t plan to attend. That meant he was free to finally move into his new apartment.

Once Virgil had gotten back to his car, the drive to his new home wasn’t very far, but his heart sank once he arrived.

Virgil’s apartment building looked even worse than it had in the photos.

Ivy grew up the sides of the dark brick building, clawing at the mortar between the bricks and making them look ready to crumble away. The grass was slightly overgrown, but had large dead patches as well, like someone had tried to use some unholy version of a pesticide. The sidewalk looked like it could have used redoing about ten years previously. And Virgil was pretty sure he saw two broken windows on the first floor.

Virgil’s apartment was on the third floor, so that wasn’t as likely to happen to him, but still…. Was it too late to switch buildings? Probably. It wasn’t like he could afford anything better, anyway.

Virgil resigned himself to his fate. He grabbed a box at random from his car and walked up to the building, keys in hand.

…

The door swung open with a creaking sound.

“Hey girl!” a voice said. A tall young man wearing sunglasses and with his hair pulled back in a ponytail appeared, holding a Starbucks cup. His hair was partially dyed a pastel pink.

**You must be Remy.**

“You must be Virgil! Don’t just stand there. TBH it’s a little weird.”

Virgil walked in, and after a second’s hesitation, put the box down on the floor. He pointed back towards the door.

**I have to go get the rest of my stuff.**

“Hm? Oh, right, you do you girl. Get all, like, settled in. That room’s yours.” Remy pointed at a closed door. “I’m gonna go take a nap.”

And off Remy sauntered. Virgil wanted to ask if Remy planned to take his nap still wearing the sunglasses, but he just let out a breath and went to get the rest of his stuff from the car.

It didn’t take him too long to get moved in. He didn’t exactly have a lot of stuff. When he was done, Virgil tested the lock on his bedroom door (it worked, thankfully), flopped down on his bed, and put his arm over his eyes.

He had to interact with even more people tomorrow, but right now, Virgil was following his new roommate’s lead, and taking a nap.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first part of this chapter includes spiders, so feel free to skip that if you need to.

It was dark outside when Virgil woke up, but the streetlamps outside and the glow of the clock on his bedside table provided ample light to see by. It was a little hot in the room, and Virgil was rather glad that he hadn’t had a blanket over himself. He was beginning to suspect that his new apartment’s air conditioning was broken.

Virgil was considering going back to sleep when he felt something skitter across his arm, and he practically jumped out of his skin. Virgil fell off the edge of the bed and crashed onto the floor with a cry of alarm.

A large black spider scurried up the wall, the light glinting off of it. Virgil sighed. He didn’t actually mind spiders, but he didn’t appreciate one crawling on him like that.

There was a knock at the door. “Virgil?” He heard the knob turn against the lock. “You okay in there?”

“Virgil?”

Virgil started to pick himself up off the floor, rubbing a sore hip.

“Come on, girl, answer me.” The knock came again. “Are you dead?”

Virgil sheepishly unlocked the door and opened it. Remy stood there, without his sunglasses for the first time that Virgil had seen, but still holding a Starbucks cup in hand.

“Spider,” he said as an explanation.

Remy put on a shocked look and pretended to almost drop his drink. “He can speak!”

Virgil rolled his eyes.

“I’ve got a spider in my room, too. Found him last week. I’ve been calling him Nigel.”

Virgil stared. What?

Apparently, his expression was pretty comical, as Remy burst into laughter. “What, you think I’d prefer having a bunch of flies or mosquitoes in here? No, ma’am! The spiders can stay!” He took a sip from his drink, looking Virgil up and down. “Do they bother you or something?”

Virgil shook his head, and deciding he was done with this conversation, started to close the door.

“Hey, rude,” Remy said, his tone holding a bit of a whine. He went to adjust his shades to accentuate his point, then seemed to realize he wasn’t wearing them “Oh, sh—where’d….”

Remy ended up just walking away, so Virgil just closed the door as he’d planned. He sat back on the bed, looking up at where the spider was now in the corner across from his bed. He pointed a finger at it and gave it a look. “Stay away from me,” he warned it in a whisper.

**…**

The next day consisted of dumb getting-to know-each-other activities (as if anyone would remember any of this information), another group meal, and finally, registration for classes.

Virgil pretty much just sulked his way through most of the “fun” activities. The leaders of the activities seemed to catch on to his don’t-talk-to-me vibe pretty quick, so he was mostly ignored. Like he wanted.

At lunch, he wasn’t left quite as alone as he had attempted to be. He sat off by himself, but he had only just opened his bag of chips when he saw someone walk up to him.

“Do you mind if I sit here?”

Virgil glanced up. Another freshman stood there. She had long, brown hair, and was looking down at him with a small smile.

Virgil shrugged, which she seemed to take as permission to sit down.

“My name’s Valerie,” she said, settling on the grass beside him. “What’s your name?”

Something was familiar about her voice, about that long brown hair.

Valerie was looking at him, apparently awaiting a response. Eventually she seemed to realize that he wasn’t going to offer one. “I can move if you want me to. I just thought you might not want to be alone.”

Again, he gave no response, so Valerie nodded slightly to herself and started to get up.

“Wait,” Virgil said, his heart skipping a beat as he spoke.

She looked back at him, looking up at her.  **You can stay**.

She seemed to fill in the rest of his sentence, and sat back down. “Okay.”

They finished lunch together, and no one else joined them. They talked a little. Valerie mentioned some of the courses she planned to take, where she was living this year, and where she was from. She seemed to be trying to engage him in conversation, but Virgil mostly just listened. Valerie didn’t seem to mind as long as he nodded or something occasionally to show he was still interested.

Virgil considered what classes he would sign up for. He had no idea what he wanted to do with his life. Part of the reason he’d come to college in the first place was to put off having to decide. If only he’d had a way to stall that wouldn’t also put him in debt.

Lunch ended pretty soon, and the students were divided up into groups and taken to sign up for their classes. Valerie and Virgil were separated. It was only as she left that Virgil realized where he knew her from. She was the person who had been asking if he was okay at the welcome ceremony, and whom he had scared off unintentionally. At least he knew she didn’t hate him for that.

…

Registration was awkward. There wasn’t enough room for everyone in the library, so the different groups were taken to different computer labs around campus to register. Virgil was having trouble deciding what to take.

He chose chemistry right off the bat—he liked science, and the lower level chemistry courses were prerequisites for almost every upper level science course. But he was having trouble figuring out what to take, and classes were filling up very fast. Almost everything was already full.

The people who were supposed to be helping with registration were talking off to the side, not seeming too interested in actually helping. Virgil sighed, and paused to try to calm himself down. He still needed two more classes.

…

In the end, he had all classes that would span the entire year: Chemistry, Spanish, and American History. Virgil wasn’t sure how happy he was with these choices, but he was the last student left in the computer lab, and he would not be staying any longer than he had to. He finished registering, and made a beeline for the door.


	5. Chapter 5

The rest of welcome week passed in a blur. Virgil skipped out on whatever activities he could, trying to focus on figuring out where his classes were and what he would need for them. It looked like he had accidentally chosen an upper level history course, but Virgil wasn’t too concerned about that. American history was pretty much all that was ever covered in any history class he’d previously taken, so he knew he’d have some background on the material. The only difference was that this class would focus on history from the 20thcentury and beyond, including many historical events which most of Virgil’s previous classes had never reached.

He didn’t like the idea that he might be the only freshman in that class, but even if that were the case, it was too late to switch to another.

 _It’ll be fine,_  Virgil told himself. In any case, he didn’t have to worry about American History until Tuesday. On Mondays, he would have only Spanish and Chemistry.

…

On Sunday night, Virgil was sitting in the living room of his and his roommate’s apartment, sipping Gatorade out of a plastic wine glass (What? Let him live his life). His backpack was already sitting ready by the door, his textbooks stacked on a side table. Virgil’s leg would occasionally start shaking as he alternated between taking sips of his drink and scrolling through his phone.

He was nervous. Tomorrow was his first day of college courses; how could he not be?

Remy came into the apartment at around 11 PM. Granted, Virgil hadn’t known his roommate long, but usually he didn’t come back from his nighttime outings until much later. Or earlier, depending on how you looked at it.

“Sup,” Virgil’s roommate said. Virgil nodded in return.

“Excited for tomorrow?” Remy asked, leaning back against the wall.

Virgil shrugged. He wasn’t just avoiding talking: he really wasn’t sure.

“Can’t be too bad, can it? It’s just more of the same sh*t we’ve been doing since, like, forever.”

Virgil sighed.

It was Remy’s turn to shrug. “Lemme know if you ever decide to have a decent conversation, girl,” he commented, turning to go into his room. Virgil watched him leave, his leg starting to shake again.

…

Virgil’s alarm went off at 6 AM, only a few hours after he had finally managed to fall asleep. He groaned, rolling over and turning it off. For a few minutes, he just lay there, hiding his face in his pillow. He finally pushed himself out of bed, mostly out of concern that he might fall back asleep.

He showered, got dressed, put on his makeup, and combed his hair. He put on his usual hoodie—while it was already uncomfortably warm in the apartment, the weight of the garment helped him calm down.

Virgil was ready to leave an hour earlier than he needed to be. Remy, returning from an early morning Starbucks run, found him hovering between the couch and the door, pacing back and forth with his backpack.

“Girl, seriously? Calm yourself. Here.” Remy shoved his Starbucks cup in Virgil’s hands. He crossed his arms, then continued, “Don’t just stare at me! Drink it.”

Virgil awkwardly took a sip. It was some sort of tea. He wasn’t versed enough in the different types to know which it was, but he liked it.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, the word coming out as nearly incomprehensible.

“No problem,” Remy snorted. He adjusted his sunglasses, then went and flopped down on the couch.

After a moment, Virgil crossed the room and sank down onto the other end of the couch. Remy seemed relieved, though it was hard to tell with the glasses and Virgil’s reluctance to look directly at him. They stayed there until a more reasonable time to leave the apartment came, and then they both left for class.

…

Virgil’s day started off with Spanish. It wasn’t too bad. The professor went over the syllabus with them, and taught the class some basic greetings and farewells. They were supposed to repeat them back to the professor aloud, but Virgil just did so in his head. He caught the professor glancing over at him a couple of times, probably thinking he was being insolent, or not paying attention. Whatever. She could think of him what she wanted.

Similarly, Virgil’s first chemistry class mostly consisted of going over what the class would be. They were given laminated periodic tables, lab station assignments, and a packet on what the class’s lab experiments would be. No one expected him to speak in this class, so it went much more smoothly.

Afterwards, Virgil made his way out of the building. He was one of the last students out of the room, concerned about accidentally leaving something behind.

Once he was outside, he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket. He frowned and pulled it out. His dad was calling. Virgil glanced around. Too many people. He let the phone go to voicemail, deciding he’d call back when he was alone.

Virgil found his way to an empty part of campus. Leaning against a tree, he redialed his dad’s number.

“Hey, Dad,” Virgil said when he heard the line click.

“Hey, Virgil! How was your big day?”

“It was alright,” Virgil said, stuffing his free hand in his hoodie pocket. “It’s just school.”

“Well, it’s college. It’s exciting!”

“Yeah, sure. Whatever. I guess,” Virgil sighed.

“Oh, come on, it can’t be that bad, can it? Have you made any friends yet?”

“Um…” It was a little hard to make friends when you could barely speak. Patton came to mind, but Virgil wasn’t sure he’d call him a friend yet.

“What about your roommate? What’s he like?”

“He’s okay,” Virgil admitted. “Kinda weird, but okay.”

They spoke a few minutes more, Virgil falling silent whenever a group of students passed by. Used to this sort of thing by now, Virgil’s dad didn’t say anything when he failed to answer a question right away.

“Well, I should let you go,” his dad said finally. “Have a good night, okay? Do you want me to call you tomorrow?”

“Bye, Dad,” Virgil said, avoiding the second question.

“Bye, Virgil,” his dad sighed. “I’ll call tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” 


	6. Chapter 6

Patton’s first day of classes as a sophomore went pretty well. It was sunny, and he got to see all of his friends from last year!

He hoped that V’s first day was going well. Patton hadn’t seen or heard from him since their tour during welcome week. He was tempted to send him another text, to check in, but Logan had advised that he not do so unless V contacted him first. He had already sent him one message, that first day, to make sure V had his number, but had gotten no reply.

“But I don’t even know his name,” Patton had protested.

“Precisely. V, or whatever his name truly is, may not see the two of you as being close enough to exchange text messages. He may want to figure out the start of his college experience by himself, and to make friends with people from his own class.”

“Why can’t we be friends, too?”

“I never said you couldn’t. He may very well text you in the near future.”

Patton had pouted, but relented when Logan went on to point out that V might be embarrassed about having had a panic attack the first time the two of them met. He had to admit Logan had a point about that.

Well, Patton could wait! He just hoped V was doing okay.

…

That evening, Virgil ate a can of mixed fruit as he filled out yet another job application. He would need some sort of employment if he wanted to attend this school with a manageable amount of debt. He’d been applying since the summer, but so far, nothing had panned out. The problem was the interview that nearly every employer required. Not only would Virgil be nervous because of, well, his anxiety, but also because it was a freaking job interview. Who wouldn’t be nervous for that?

It would help if he could speak reliably, but that seemed like too much to ask for.

…

Remy walked in at around 1 in the morning. He glanced in Virgil’s direction, probably wondering why he was still up, before hiding himself away in his room. Virgil felt that Remy couldn’t be one to judge someone for staying up late.

He did end up going to bed not too much later. He had to get up early, after all, for class. This time, he had an easier time falling asleep, but he was still tired when his alarm went off.

Remy brought back two Starbucks cups that morning, handing one to Virgil with a small flourish. “I knew you’d be ready way too early again,” was all he said. It was the same tea as he’d brought the day before. They sat together on either end of the couch and finished their drinks before leaving for the day.

…

Since Spanish was a class that met every day of the week, Virgil had to deal with another hour and a half of avoiding speaking in a language class, which was not an easy task if his goal wasn’t to make the professor hate him.

He got through it, though, and hurried to get out of the room quickly—the professor was looking like she wanted to corner him and talk. He made it into the hall and fast-walked to the stairwell.

He found himself on the first floor, keeping to the edge of the hallway so as to not be in the way of the stream of students making their way out of the building. Virgil still had American History that day—in the same building, in fact—but first, he was going to lunch.

…

Virgil tapped his fingers nervously against his leg as he made his way to the history classrooms. Would this class be difficult? What if everyone else in the class was a senior or something? Would they all look at him weird? He usually got strange looks because of his dark clothing and eyeshadow, but that didn’t mean he liked it.

Virgil ducked into the classroom. He’d just sneak to a desk in the back, hide out and not draw attention to—.

“V!” a cheerful, surprised voice cried. Virgil looked up. Was that… Patton?

The older student was already getting up and coming towards him, smiling. Virgil stiffened, almost expecting an unsolicited hug, but Patton stopped in front of him. “Are you in this class with us, kiddo?”

Virgil nodded, bewildered, and wondered who “us” was. He got his answer a few moments later when Patton grabbed his hand and dragged him over to a cluster of desks. Virgil felt his face heat up as they all looked at him.

“This is Logan, Roman, Joan, and Talyn!” Patton said. “Everyone, this is—” he looked at Virgil expectantly, who couldn’t have said anything if he wanted to. Patton’s smile faltered. “My new friend!” he finished, barely missing a beat. “He’s new here, so you’d all better be nice to him.”

 _So, he does think we’re friends_ , Virgil noted. He gave the group a peace sign as a greeting, his expression as bored-looking as he could make it.

“Greetings!” one of them—Roman, he thought—cried boisterously. Virgil took a step back, a little alarmed. Logan(?) swatted him on the arm.

“Roman, not everyone appreciates your… eccentricity, when so sudden.”

“Oh, shoot. Sorry.”

One of the others, Talyn, tried to engage him in conversation, but Virgil just gestured vaguely at the clock (it was almost 1, when class officially began) before heading off to sit in the back of the room. Patton especially looked a little disappointed, but he didn’t push Virgil to return.

…

By the end of that first class period, Virgil was feeling much better about his choice. This class didn’t seem like it would be too difficult for him, and apparently there was a big field trip planned for the spring, should he choose to take the second half of the course.

He was right that the majority of the class was made up of juniors and seniors, but there were a substantial number of sophomores as well, and one other freshman: Valerie. She had smiled at him when she came in the room, looking relieved to see a familiar face. She hadn’t sat nearby, though, as there weren’t any open desks in the back of the room by the time she arrived.

…

Virgil was loitering in the entryway to the building when he heard hurried footsteps behind him. He turned to see Patton, slightly pink in the face. A huge smile overtook Patton’s face when he spotted Virgil. He walked up and breathlessly invited him over to his friend Roman’s house that evening.

“We have a movie night every week. Usually it’s on Fridays, but I convinced everybody that this would be a fun way to make you feel welcome! What do you think?”

Virgil hesitated, looking at Patton. Did he really want to be around a lot of people? But they had moved the date of their movie night just for him, it would be rude to refuse… And he should probably make some attempt to make friends. Patton seemed harmless enough. But still— _people._

Patton seemed to sense the reason for his hesitancy. “There won’t be a lot of us! Just me, Roman, and Logan. Joan and Talyn usually come, but Talyn’s not free on Tuesdays and apparently Joan already has a paper assigned.”

Virgil guessed that Patton was a little nervous, and that was why he had carried on his explanations for longer than necessary. Virgil slowly nodded, then looked up and gave Patton a small smile. “I’ll go,” he managed to say.

…

“Hey, Virgil!”

“Hey, Dad.”

“How was class today?”

“It was alright.”

“Make any friends?”

“…Yeah, I think so.”


	7. Movie Night

Virgil was pacing in front of the campus library, where he’d asked Patton to pick him up from. He’d decided he’d rather that Patton didn’t see the run-down apartment complex where he was living, and he had wanted to do some studying before they all met up.

He glanced at the time on his phone screen. 7:34. Patton had said that he’d pick him up at 7:30.

_He’s not coming he forgot something happened he doesn’t really want to hang out with you WHERE IS HE—_

Virgil was startled out of his thoughts by a car horn honking. The papers he was carrying, his Spanish homework, fell out of his hands. He swore, bending to pick them up. He heard a car door open and close, and footsteps approaching.

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you!”

Virgil looked up, finished gathering up his papers, and stood. He held out a hand in a placating gesture. **It’s fine**.

“Well, d’you—d’you want to get going?” Patton asked.

Virgil nodded, and followed after Patton to the car.

“I picked up Logan, too. I hope you don’t mind.”

Virgil shook his head. He didn’t mind.

“Salutations,” said Logan as Virgil opened the rear car door. He was in the front passenger seat. Virgil nodded to him as he sat down in the back.

...

Patton pulled up to the side of a residential street a few minutes later. “We’re here!” he announced, smiling at Virgil in the rearview mirror. He put the car in park, and hopped out.

Virgil unfastened his seatbelt and hesitantly followed. He saw Patton and Logan walking up to a house. It was pretty nice. It wasn’t too big, but cozy looking rather than cramped. It was a little hard to tell with the lighting, but Virgil thought that it was painted white. Flowerbeds lined the edges of the porch, and the grass was neatly mowed.

Virgil felt out of place.

“Are you coming?” Patton asked, looking concerned.

Virgil nodded, hurrying to catch up.

“Are we ordering pizza once again?” Logan asked as he walked up the porch steps.

“That’s the plan! Is that okay with you, kiddo?” Patton added, looking back at Virgil, who nodded.

Logan reached up and knocked. About two seconds later, the door opened. Roman stood there, grinning. He was wearing… a prince outfit? That was weird.

Roman laughed at Virgil’s raised eyebrow, but he just gestured them inside with a grand wave of his arm. The three of them entered. “Welcome!”

It was a nice house. Virgil glanced around, feeling awkward. He wasn’t sure what to do with himself. The others had taken off their shoes, so he did the same. He found himself being swept down the hall, Patton’s arm around his shoulders.

“Come on, kiddo!”

Virgil made a noise in the back of his throat as a sort of reply, letting himself be pulled into what must have been the living room. Roman threw himself onto the sofa, and Logan carefully settled himself at the other end of it. Virgil hung back for a moment before Patton gave him a pleading look. With a sigh, he perched on the arm of the sofa, near Logan. Roman’s unpredictability made him a little nervous.

Patton knelt down by the DVD player and pulled out a box. “Roman, do you want to order the pizza? We can pick out the movie.”

“Sure thing, Specs,” Roman said, getting out his phone. “What kind of pizza do we want?”

“Cheese should be good,” Patton said, looking through the DVDs.

“Sounds splendid!” cried Roman. He got up and left the room to make the order. Virgil watched him go, then leaned over and tapped on Patton’s shoulder.

“Hm?”

Virgil gestured towards Roman questioningly. **What’s with the prince outfit?**

“…Oh! The prince costume?” Patton guessed. “He got it from the theatre program at school. He likes to wear it on movie nights.”

 **Why?** Virgil frowned to convey the question.

“We usually watch Disney films, and he likes to feel like a prince.”

Virgil shrugged. That was a little weird, but whatever.

“How about _Cinderella_?”

Virgil made a face. He would probably be bored out of his mind by that one.

“ _Tangled_?”

Virgil shrugged. It wasn’t a bad movie, he did like it, but he wasn’t in the mood for a movie with a lot of songs. Plus, why did they have to hit Flynn so many times with the frying pan? Why was that supposed to be funny? Virgil just found it unsettling.

Patton was already moving on to another DVD. He didn’t seem angry, so Virgil looked towards the kitchen, wondering when Roman would return.

 “Okay, uh… Logan, you like _Big Hero Six_ , right? We haven’t watched that one in a while.”

“Affirmative,” Logan replied, sitting up straighter. Virgil sighed distractedly.

Patton seemed to take his sigh as a sign he didn’t want to watch that movie either. Looking a little put out, he slid it back into the box. Virgil started to get alarmed. No! He hadn’t meant anything by that!

Logan let out a sigh of his own. “What _would_ you like to watch?” he asked Virgil pointedly, just as Roman walked in. Virgil bit his lip, all but vibrating with frustration at himself.

“Having trouble picking a movie?” Roman guessed, reclaiming his spot on the couch.

“Patton’s new friend has turned down every suggestion offered thus far,” Logan sighed.

“Oh… um… well, he’s got that whole… dark and mysterious vibe, so why not… _Nightmare before Christmas_? Does that work?” Roman asked, looking towards Virgil, who simply stared at him.

“I suppose he hasn’t said no,” Logan observed. Patton looked concerned.

They decided to just watch that one, and mercifully, the focus was taken off of Virgil. He sank against the back of the couch as the movie started, hoping he hadn’t ruined the possibility of being friends with the others.

…

Fifteen minutes into _Nightmare before Christmas_ , the doorbell rang, and Roman paused the movie. A woman’s voice called out in Spanish from elsewhere in the house. Virgil guessed that was Roman’s mother. Roman called back a reply in kind, getting up to answer the door.

Virgil shifted on the arm of the sofa. Patton looked over and smiled at him, and he relaxed slightly. Patton wasn’t mad at him. He was still a little worried about Logan and Roman being annoyed with him, but he tried to push that worry aside for the moment.

Roman returned with two pizza boxes, which he placed on the table with his usual flair. “Our feast has arrived!” he announced, eliciting a giggle from Patton and an eyeroll from Logan.

Logan flipped open the top pizza box and took out a slice as Roman unpaused the movie. Virgil heard him grumble something about them needing to choose a healthier movie snack next time, and smirked slightly. He waited until everyone else had taken a slice of pizza before taking one for himself. There were two pizzas—surely it was okay for him to do so. No one said anything about it, to his relief. They all settled in to watch the rest of the film, munching on their pizza.

 _This isn’t so bad,_ Virgil thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Thanks for reading. I just wanted to let you all know that this might be the last part for a while. I'm leaving for Ecuador soon, and I'm not sure how much time I'll have to write in the next few days, let alone once I'm there. I will try, though! I'll be abroad until mid-August. Even if it is a while before the next part, I promise that this fic won't be abandoned.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience, everyone!

The group ran out of pizza well before the movie ended, so Patton popped some popcorn for them. Virgil refused to take any, especially once he figured out that no one expected or wanted him to chip in for the pizza. Virgil wasn’t the biggest fan of charity.

He did enjoy hanging out with Patton and his friends, though.

…

After the movie, Roman ejected the DVD and turned the television off. “Usually we watch two or three movies,” he explained to Virgil, “but since we have class tomorrow, I think it’s best if we stick with one.”

He seemed to expect a response, so Virgil nodded. He slowly got up off of the arm of the chair, locked his fingers together, and stretched his arms behind his back. One of his shoulders made a loud popping noise, which Logan looked mildly horrified to hear. Virgil laughed, and Patton visibly brightened at the sound.

Slightly comforted by this, Virgil felt emboldened enough to ask, “Hey, Roman? Do—do you have anything to drink?”

“Uh, yeah, sure.” He strode into the kitchen, Virgil following, and opened the fridge. “Iced tea, root beer, or orange juice?”

Virgil pointed at the bottle of tea as an answer.

“Excellent choice!” Roman grabbed the bottle, took a glass from the cabinet, and filled it with tea. He handed it to Virgil with a flashy smile.

“Thanks,” Virgil said, his voice a breath. He took a sip, looking back towards where Logan and Patton were cleaning up the living room. They appeared to be debating whether or not they could recycle the pizza boxes.

…

Twenty minutes later, Patton dropped Virgil off back at the library.

“I could just take you back to your place,” he offered as they pulled up, frowning in concern.

Virgil gestured at the Spanish homework in his arms in a way that suggested that he still had work to do at the library, and that was why he had wanted to be dropped off here. That wasn’t the case: Virgil had finished his homework before Patton had picked him up. But he didn’t need to know that, and anyway, Virgil’s car was nearby.

“Well, okay, kiddo,” Patton said. “I’ll see you Thursday!”

Virgil nodded, flashing Patton a small smile before he got out of the car and started towards the library. Patton didn’t leave until he was inside, so he waited in the entrance for a few minutes before walking back out again. Time to go home.

…

The next day passed uneventfully. Remy once again returned from his early morning Starbucks run with two cups: one of coffee, and the other of the same tea he had been giving Virgil.

“Why?” Virgil asked, uncomfortable with accepting the gift.

“Because you need to calm the heck down, girl. I’m willing to buy you tea to make that happen.”

Virgil frowned.

“Consider it as doing me a favor. Watching you pace back and forth was giving me a headache.”

Virgil sighed, but accepted the tea and Remy’s suggestion of how to not view it as charity. As before, the two of them finished their drinks together on the couch, and then each departed for his classes. Virgil wasn’t sure he’d call Remy a friend, but he enjoyed that silent companionship.

Virgil’s classes weren’t so bad that day. He mouthed the words that he was supposed to repeat in Spanish class, which, while it wasn’t exactly the same as actually saying them, seemed to placate his professor. Chemistry, meanwhile, was actually sort of fun. The “experiment” that they did was really just a way to practice using the equipment, but Virgil liked that he was able to work silently, and he was always elated when the results matched what was supposed to happen.

By the end of the day, he was starting to think that maybe he could actually do this.

…

On Thursday, in the early afternoon, Virgil once again walked to his American History class. When he entered the room, Patton and Logan were already there, but Roman had not yet arrived. There was plenty of room near Patton and Logan, more than just the one desk for Roman. Patton had locked his eyes on Virgil as soon as he came in the room, so Virgil went to sit in one of these open desks. Patton looked delighted. Logan gave him a nod, which Virgil interpreted as a greeting. He gave both of them a small salute in return.

Later, just as class ended, Patton turned to look at Virgil, a grin on his face. “Do you want to come to movie night again? It’s tomorrow. We’ll get to watch more than one movie this time!”

Virgil looked around at the rest of the group. None of them seemed opposed to the idea, although he didn’t see nearly as much eagerness in Logan’s nor Roman’s faces. Plus, hadn’t Patton said that there were usually more people at their movie nights? While he thought about all of this, the silence was lengthening, which made Virgil’s heart start to speed up even more.

“Joan and Talyn will be there tomorrow night,” Patton admitted, his smile just a little less bright than before. “But don’t worry! They’re really nice.”

Virgil rubbed the back of his neck. Roman was starting to look annoyed, and he noticed Logan’s covert glance at his watch. Virgil nodded, mostly just to get the attention off of himself. He wasn’t actually sure whether or not he wanted to go. At least he would have a day to prepare himself.

Patton’s smile brightened again. “Okay! Do you want me to pick you up at your house this time?”

Virgil shook his head. He didn’t want the others to see what a dump he lived in. Especially once he’d seen how nice Roman’s house was.

“Library again?” Patton asked, to which Virgil nodded.

“Okay… We’ll see you then!”

Virgil made sure to pick out  _Big Hero 6_  as one of the movies they watched that night.

…

Things continued along the same lines for the next few weeks. Virgil finally got a job at a record shop that was apparently desperate enough for help that they let his “interview” be a questionnaire that he filled out and submitted via email. He continued attending the weekly movie nights at Roman’s place, and he was warming up to them enough that he could sometimes even get out more than a couple of sentences over the course of the evening with them.

He should have known that something would go wrong.


	9. Things Go Wrong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one gets quite angsty.

It was Friday evening, the second weekend in September. The evening before, Virgil and his new friends had spent the night playing board games. Virgil had been unsurprised to learn that Logan was almost unbelievably good at Scrabble. He kept playing words that the others would claim weren’t real, only for their friend to pull up its definition on his phone.

Tonight, even though they had hung out so recently, another movie night was scheduled.

“It’s tradition!” Patton had said in response to Virgil’s questioning look, his eyes pleading. “You can’t break tradition!”

Virgil, of course, had relented. So here he was, waiting outside the library where Patton always picked him up. He checked his phone for the time, and when he looked back up, he saw Patton’s headlights coming up the street. As the car pulled over at the side of the road, Virgil gave the driver a small salute as a greeting. He shouldered his backpack and approached as Patton opened up the car door.

One obligatory hug later (which Virgil pretended to not like as much as he did), they were heading towards Roman’s house.

…

The movies picked out for that night were _Moana, The Little Mermaid_ , and _Snow White_. Virgil thought that that was a lot of Disney, but to tell the truth, he was more of a Disney fan than he usually let on.

Roman was there of course (in his usual prince outfit), as were Logan and Patton. Joan and Talyn came too, but they could only stay for the first movie.

They waited to order food until they started the second movie, since Talyn and Joan had already eaten. After bidding their goodbyes to the two nonbinary pals, Roman turned to the others for an important discussion.

“Pizza again?” Roman asked.

“Roman, how many times must I tell you, pizza is not a healthy meal! We should get something with more nutritional value!”

“Well, if you don’t want pizza, you don’t have to eat any,” Roman pointed out. Logan was conspicuously silent. As much as he complained about the unhealthiness of eating a lot of pizza, the others all knew that he secretly loved it. After a long silence, in which Roman grinned at a slightly uncomfortable Logan, Roman picked up his cell phone and dialed the number of the pizza place.

They watched the second movie, munching happily on pizza. Virgil had a glass of tea, as did Logan, Roman had root beer, and Patton had a glass of water.

The movie was still playing when they finished off the pizzas. Logan and Patton both got out their wallets, as usual, and took out a few bills to help pay Roman back for the food.

“Hey, V,” Roman said. Virgil was painfully reminded that he still had yet to tell the others his actual name, but the more time that passed, the more daunting the idea of doing so became. Roman continued, “Why don’t you chip in? Patton said you’ve got a job now, plus we’ve been picking up the tab for a few weeks now, so….”

Virgil froze.

He had already eaten the pizza. He couldn’t take that back. But even with his new job, he just didn’t have the money to help pay. All the money he’d earned so far had gone to paying for textbooks and tuition. He barely had anything left for himself; in fact, he had a grand total of $3.26 in his wallet. He knew because he had checked that morning.

Everyone was looking at him expectantly. Virgil’s chest felt tight, his pulse pounding in his ears, his jaw locked shut even as he tried to say something, anything, to break the horrible silence.

Roman was clearly getting annoyed. Logan looked somewhere between impatient and confused. Patton was glancing between all of them, tapping the tips of his fingers together silently.

It certainly didn’t help that Virgil’s expression, he knew, was all but blank, probably making them think he was just denying their request by not bothering to respond.

“What?” Roman said after a while. “It’s only a few dollars! It’s not like I’m asking you to pay for the whole thing, or all the pizza you ate at other movie nights.”

“Roman,” Patton began, “he doesn’t t—”

“He can talk, Patton! I’ve heard him! You’ve heard him! He just doesn’t because he thinks he’s better than us! And now he’s here, taking advantage of the free food and movies, all because you think he’s some delicate little flower. Just because he had a panic attack when you first met doesn’t make him a good person.”

“Maybe he forgot his wallet!”

“Roman, I will happily pay for V’s—,” Logan cut in, only for Roman to interrupt.

“That’s another thing! We don’t even know his name!”

Virgil’s breath was coming too fast, and he was starting to get lightheaded. The others continued to argue, but their words began to warp until Virgil couldn’t understand. He couldn’t breathe.

He had to get out, had to get out, _he had to get out of here—!_

“Where are you going?” Roman’s face loomed in front of him. Virgil must have stood up. He didn’t remember.

Virgil opened his mouth, but all that came out was a puff of air. Confusion briefly flashed through Roman’s expression, before being replaced with annoyance once again. Annoyance that changed suddenly to anger as the glass of tea Virgil had apparently still been holding fell out of his numbing hand, spilling all over the junior’s pristine, white prince costume.

Roman was _livid_. He was yelling, barely two inches from Virgil’s face.

Virgil snapped out of it and pushed past Roman, feeling like he was only half there, and walked outside the house. Patton and Logan were trying to help Roman with the tea staining the floor and his clothes, and didn’t immediately follow.

As soon as Virgil got out of the others’ sight, it was like the dam broke.

Hot tears streaked down his face, and his breath started coming in great, whooping gasps that didn’t seem to bring any oxygen to his desperate lungs. Virgil sprinted down the dark street, desperate to get away, get away, get _away_. He didn’t know which way he was going, but he followed the dark street, then ducked into an alley because even the street lamps were _Too. Much_.

Quite suddenly, Virgil was on the ground, asphalt stinging his knees and hands as he fell. He was overwhelmed by dizziness, and he still couldn’t catch his breath. His flight had, of course, only made things that much worse. There was something, something that could help, that breathing exercise Patton had shown him, but Virgil couldn’t focus enough to remember what it was.

 **I can’t breathe!** Virgil wanted to scream, but all he did was collapse on his side, barely aware of it as his senses failed him. The world stretched, thinning impossibly, until it all faded to nothing.


	10. Things Go Wrong pt2

“V!” Patton cried, “Where are you?”

He and Logan were searching for their friend, walking through the neighborhood while Roman changed into something dry. So far, there was no sign of the darkly dressed freshman.

“Do you believe there is any truth to Roman’s claims?” Logan asked as they turned another corner.

Patton paused his calling out to respond, “Do you?”

“I do not know. You know as well as I that I am not always the most adept at interpreting social cues, or discerning nuances of behavior.”

“Well, I don’t think so,” Patton said firmly. “V is just quiet. I don’t think he would have stuck around so long if he didn’t want to be friends.”

They searched for about twenty minutes more, and by then, Patton’s voice had gotten rather hoarse. “We should return to Roman’s house,” Logan said finally. “V could be quite far away by now.”

Patton knew he was right, but how would V get home? Patton had picked him up! Did he even know the way back?

“It is only a ten minute walk back to the library,” Logan reminded him. And he was right, but again, did V know how to get there?

But it had started to rain, and with some more insistence, Patton reluctantly let Logan pull him away, his eyes filling with tears.

…

“Is it dead?”

Virgil felt something jab into his ribs. A shoe? He was barely awake, too weak and exhausted to move much just yet. The shoe nudged him again, harder, causing him to roll onto his back. Two high-pitched shrieks pierced his eardrums, and then he heard two sets of footsteps running away. His eyes flickered half-open, met with darkness.

“There you are!” he heard a distant voice call. “Where have the two of you been? We need to get going!”

“We found a dead body!” one of the others, a child, cried.

“Oh, come on, Jill,” the older voice sighed.

“It’s true, Micky!” the other girl insisted.

“Mom lets the two of you watch too many detective shows,” Micky said. “It was probably a bag of garbage or something.”

“Noooo, come on! It’s over here!”

Virgil could hear the girls dragging Mickey towards him, and his heartrate increased. He looked up at the surprised face of a teenage girl blearily.

Her surprise faded, and she sighed. “It’s just some drunk guy. Probably homeless.” She kicked something nearby, and Virgil heard something (a bottle?) roll across the ground. “Come on.”

She did pause, though, and dropped something before dragging the children away. Virgil felt it land lightly on his chest.

…

It had started to rain, so while Virgil still felt out of it, he forced himself to his feet. He caught at the filthy alley wall to steady himself, and frowned at the bit of paper that had fluttered to the ground. He cautiously picked it up. It was a $5 bill. He stuffed it into his pocket and started unsteadily walking in the direction he hoped would lead him home.

It probably took him over an hour, perhaps longer, until Virgil finally came upon the street his apartment was on. He was utterly exhausted, from the panic attack and from the long trek home, but he had started to feel oddly detached from the situation. It was like he was watching somebody else try to make their way home, rather than actually doing that himself.

He made it to his apartment building, and slowly ascended the stairs.

…

There was a quiet knock at the door. Remy looked over tiredly from where he was seated in front of the television. He had been watching it, but hadn’t been absorbing anything that was happening for a few hours now. He was pretty tired, but his insomnia didn’t always care.

Remy set his Starbucks cup to the side (it was actually decaf this time, shockingly), and went to get the door.

“Girl, whatever you’re selling, it had better be good,” Remy said, glancing at the time on his phone before opening the door. It was just past two in the morning.

But it wasn’t a salesperson at the door. It was Virgil. Remy blinked in surprise. He had thought that Virgil was in his room, since the door was shut.

“Uh, hey, roomie,” Remy said, taking in the state of his roommate. Virgil was slouching, his hair and clothes soaked and filthy. His eye makeup had run all over his face, and there was something dark staining his shoes. There were scrapes on his face and arm, and he looked about ready to fall over. His eyes were glazed.

Remy shook himself out of his shock and quickly pulled Virgil inside. He settled the young man on the couch where he had been, figuring that the thing was already so in need of replacing that a little dirt (or whatever that was) wouldn’t matter.

“Virgil?” Remy asked, kneeling on the floor and looking up at the other’s face. No response.

Remy wasn’t sure what to do about this, but he couldn’t do nothing.

Five minutes later, Remy was seated in front of Virgil with a first aid kit, a towel, a washcloth, and a bowl of warm water.

Remy took off his sunglasses so that he could see Virgil a bit better. He eyed Virgil’s filthy clothes.

“It is okay if I take off that hoodie for you?” Remy asked, his usually colorful personality on hold for now. Virgil still said nothing, but he also didn’t protest, so Remy slowly reached up and slid the hoodie from his shoulders, carefully taking it off of him. He set it to the side, then picked up the washcloth, and then started carefully cleaning the grime and ruined makeup off of Virgil’s face. Virgil didn’t visibly react. Remy frowned. He didn’t know his roommate very well, and he probably wouldn’t quite call them friends, but this was concerning. What had happened? Virgil was acting even more morose than usual.

Remy dipped the washcloth in the water again and started on Virgil’s hair. Once it was, well, sort of clean, he rubbed it gently with the towel to help it dry faster. 

It was when Remy was dabbing antiseptic on Virgil’s scrapes that he finally got a reaction. Virgil blinked a bit at first, then winced when Remy moved to one of the larger cuts. Remy stopped and looked up at him. “You with me, girl?”

Virgil didn’t speak, which Remy supposed he should have expected. He went back to cleaning Virgil’s cuts. A couple moments later, he looked up at his roommate’s face again, and was a little startled to see tears slowly sliding down his face.

“Uh uh, no, girl, none of that,” Remy said quickly, grabbing a thankfully close by box of tissues. He pulled out a couple and slowly moved to wipe Virgil’s face, not wanting to startle him.

Virgil looked exhausted, and absolutely broken. Remy had no idea what had happened, but he got an unfamiliar urge to wrap the other boy in a blanket. Maybe he would, once Virgil no longer smelled vaguely like a dumpster.

Remy finished cleaning Virgil’s cuts, and sat back against the coffee table. “What the hell happened?” he asked.

Virgil shifted where he sat. He opened his mouth, faltered, and shut it again.

“Did you get mugged?” Remy asked, figuring yes-or-no questions were his best option.

Virgil shook his head.

“Did you get lost?” A pause, then a shrug. That wasn’t very helpful.

“Something else made you get lost?” He got a nod at that one.

“Okay…” Remy thought for a few seconds. “Was it something somebody did?” Virgil hesitated for a while, and Remy was starting to think he wouldn’t answer when he finally got a nod.

“Okay. Was it something really bad?” No. Then why was Virgil so upset?

“Girl, you gotta help me here. Give me a hint. Can you write?” He got another nod, so Remy went over to his backpack, grabbed a notebook and pen, and returned. He sat down beside Virgil this time.

 _Had panic attack_ , Virgil scrawled across the top of an empty page. Remy sighed.

“Why?” he asked.

_Money_

Oh. That made sense to Remy. Virgil was no doubt a little strapped for cash, like Remy himself, if he lived in this place. The only reason he could afford his Starbucks splurges was because his uncle managed a nearby Starbucks shop and gave him much more of a discount than he was technically supposed to.

“You couldn’t afford something,” Remy guessed.

Another nod.

“Okay,” Remy said. “I know better than to ask if you’re okay,” he sighed. “But you do need a shower. You up for that? It’ll help.”

Virgil shrugged, so Remy pulled him up by a hand (thank goodness he had already cleaned those off with the washcloth; Remy liked Virgil, but he was not looking to catch whatever dumpster germs his roommate was currently hosting). He tugged him towards the bathroom. Remy grabbed some shampoo, soap, and a towel, and set them on the counter.

“I’ll grab you some clothes. The ones you’re wearing are just too tragic. See you in a few.” Remy awkwardly squeezed his shoulder, then closed the door. He was really out of his element here.

…

Virgil just stood there in the bathroom for a while after Remy left, then slowly started to get ready for his shower.

Thankfully, the water heater was one thing that worked well in this apartment. He was already under the nearly scalding spray when his shoulders started shaking with silent sobs. Call Virgil foolish, but he had really thought he had made some friends.

…

Remy shifted the clothes he was carrying to one arm, and reached up with the other to knock on the bathroom door. “Hey, girl. Knock twice or something if I can open the door.”

Two muffled knocks came from inside, so Remy opened the door partially, and set the fresh clothes on the counter. He closed the door again, pretending he hadn’t noticed Virgil’s sniffling over the sound of running water.


	11. Chapter 11

Virgil stayed in the shower until the water ran too cold for him to tolerate. He reluctantly turned off the tap, and he wrapped himself in the towel that Remy had left on the counter. His wet hair dripped on the tile floor.

He dried himself off as best as he could motivate himself to do, then got dressed in the clean clothes Remy had brought.

Virgil glanced at the pile of clothes he had left on the floor, stained with whatever had been on the ground in that alley. He bent down and removed his wallet and cell phone. Belatedly, he remembered the five dollar bill that that girl had left for him, and grabbed that too.

He stuffed the retrieved items in his pockets, then looked back down at the pile of clothes. Should he bother trying to wash them? Or just throw them away? Virgil wasn’t sure that that smell would ever come out. Deciding he was too tired and upset to deal with that right now, he just kicked the clothes into a corner and stepped slowly out of the bathroom.

Apparently, Remy wasn’t going to let him escape to his room unnoticed.

“Hey, girl,” he said, looking up from his spot on the couch as soon as Virgil appeared. “How are you doing?” Virgil didn’t answer, but he sighed, and reluctantly walked over to the couch. He sat down at Remy’s side.

Virgil felt Remy’s eyes on him for a few moments, before Remy reached behind Virgil, who tensed instinctively. Remy just grabbed the blanket that was folded over the back of the couch and shook it out to unfold it, then slowly wrapped it around Virgil’s shoulders. He pulled it snugly around him, and awkwardly squeezed his shoulder once more.

Remy clearly felt awkward and didn’t know how to act in a situation like this, but he was clearly trying to be helpful. Virgil appreciated it, even if a large part of him would rather lock himself away in his room, alone, and never come back out.

“You can go to bed if you want,” Remy said after a few more moments. “It’s pretty late. But if you want to stay, we could just chill and watch TV.”

Virgil made a vague grunting noise in his throat, but didn’t move to get up. He was exhausted, but he also didn’t feel like sleeping. Plus, getting up to go to bed would require more effort than Virgil was currently willing to put in. He just sat there instead, silently watching the television. He wasn’t paying much attention to the program. The two young men didn’t speak again, and while Virgil guessed that this was at least partially because Remy simply didn’t know what to say, Virgil enjoyed his roommate’s silent companionship.

Virgil wasn’t sure how long the two of them spent that way. Perhaps a couple of hours. Figuring he should probably force himself to go to bed soon, Virgil pulled the blanket more tightly around his shoulders, and looked around for his phone to check the time. In the process, he glanced towards Remy. Apparently, at some point, the other young man had fallen asleep. It was pretty clear that he hadn’t actually meant to do so, judging by the position he had managed to fall asleep in. Remy’s sunglasses had slid down his nose until they were about to fall off. As Virgil took in the sight, he heard a soft, rumbling snore.

Sighing, Virgil freed his arms from the blanket and took off Remy’s glasses for him, setting them on the side table. He glanced back at Remy’s face, and frowned. He hadn’t noticed earlier, too distressed and detached from the situation, but there were very dark shadows around Remy’s eyes.

 _Dude, when is the last time you slept properly?_ Virgil wanted to ask, but he didn’t want to wake his roommate, and he might not have been able to get the words out if he tried, anyway. So all Virgil did was remove the blanket from around his own shoulders, ignoring how he already missed its comfort, and lay it over Remy. Remy mumbled something, and Virgil froze, but the other didn’t wake.

Virgil slowly got up, grabbed the remote, and turned off the television. He returned to his room as quietly as possible, locking the door behind him. He lay down on his bed, curling up under the heavy blankets despite how warm the weather was.

Virgil’s mind was quickly going back to spiraling about what had transpired earlier that night, so Virgil took out his phone, seeking a distraction. What he was instead greeted with was a barrage of notifications, most of them texts from Patton.  There were also a couple from an unknown number, and some missed calls. Virgil sighed and opened up his messages, expecting a lecture. That was not what he found.

It appeared that Patton had been freaking out the past few hours about where Virgil was, and had been trying to contact him this entire time.

 …

 **Patton** : Hey kiddo, did you make it home okay?

 **Patton** : V? Kiddo?

 **Patton** : Please answer me, kiddo. We’re all worried about you.

 **Patton** : Please?

 **Patton** : You’re scaring me

After a while, as the messages were quite repetitive, Virgil went to check the messages from the unknown number. He was slightly shocked, and didn’t know what to make of this.

 **Unknown number** : Greetings. This is Logan. Patton gave me your number. We wish to ascertain that you have made it home safely. Patton is quite distressed.

 **Unknown number** : I would also like to know that you are well.

Virgil bit his lip, navigated back to Patton’s texts, and continued reading the messages.

 **Patton** : Hey, kiddo, its been a couple hours now. Please tell me you’re okay.

 **Patton** : V, please

 **Patton** : Roman didn’t mean what he said. I’m sure of it. And I know you’re a good person. You’re my dark strange son and I really hope you’re okay. Please answer me.

There was a pause in the messages at that point before they picked up again.

 **Patton** : Hey kiddo. Sorry to bother you. I really hope you’re okay.

 **Patton** : I’m not mad at you. I hope you’re not mad at me.

 **Patton** : Please talk to me

 **Patton** : Logan says you’re probably asleep so could you maybe text me when you wake up??

 **Patton** : Please

 **Patton** : I just want to know you’re okay.

 **Patton** : I need to know you’re okay.

The final message had been sent sixteen minutes earlier. Virgil pressed his face into his pillow for a few seconds, wanting to scream, before pushing himself up on his elbows. He gazed down at his phone, an odd feeling in his chest. Patton didn’t hate him. And, it seemed, neither did Logan. Virgil still didn’t want to talk, but he supposed he should at least let Patton know he was alive.

…

 **< 3 V <3**: .

“Logan!” Patton yelled when his screen lit up with a notification. “V messaged me!”

Logan came walking in from the other room, carrying a mug of tea. They were both at Patton’s apartment, as Logan had believed his friend to be too distressed to leave alone. Logan was worried, of course, but Patton was another story. He had even been considering calling the police until Logan talked him down.

“Is he well?”

“I…” Patton looked at the incredibly uninformative message. “He’s alive,” he said uncertainly. He showed Logan the phone.

“A period? What does that mean?” Logan asked, furrowing his brow.

Patton looked at the phone sadly. “He doesn’t want to talk to us.”

Logan sighed. “Well, at least we know that he is alive,” he pointed out. “Will you please get some rest, now? It may be the weekend, but I would prefer to go to bed before sunrise.”

Patton pouted at Logan, but he couldn’t deny that he was tired, so he relented.

…

Virgil woke up late the next morning. For a few merciful seconds, he just lay there, comfortable in his bed, before the memories of the previous night came back all at once. Virgil hunched in on himself suddenly, feeling as if he’d been punched in the gut. Tears threatened to come again, but Virgil stubbornly blinked them away. Roman might hate him, but Virgil tried to focus on the positives. Patton and Logan at least cared enough to make sure he was okay, right? It probably wasn’t completely out of guilt. And the panic attack and his collapse in that disgusting alleyway might have been horrible, but hey… he had five dollars more today than he had had the day before.

 _I guess I can pay Roman now_ , Virgil thought bitterly.

Okay, perhaps focusing on the positives wasn’t Virgil’s strong suit. Maybe a distraction would be better. He could keep himself busy. He still had to deal with the clothes he’d been wearing the night before, after all.

Virgil finally dragged himself out of bed. When he emerged from his room, he saw that Remy was still on the couch. He must have gotten up at some point, though, since he was now laying down with the blanket over his legs and waist, and his glasses had been moved to the coffee table. Virgil could also swear that there had been a coffee cup at Remy’s side the night before.

Virgil crept past to the bathroom and looked down at the pile of clothes he’d kicked into a corner. After a moment, he decided that it wouldn’t be worth the effort to try to save them, so he picked them up with his fingertips and deposited them in the trashcan. He was relieved that at least that had been dealt with, but what about his hoodie? Where was it?

Virgil walked back out into the main room, looking around for the familiar black and gray garment. There it was—crumpled on the floor at the side of the couch. Virgil frowned.

He made his way over, avoiding a creaky floorboard for the still-asleep Remy’s sake, and retrieved the hoodie.

It _stank_.

Some unknown substance had dried on the back of it, stiffening the fabric, and—oh, no—there was chewing gum stuck in the zipper.

In the end, Virgil threw away everything he had been wearing the previous day, even his shoes. It was a good thing his dad had made him bring a spare set of shoes, “just in case”, but he only had the one hoodie.

Virgil would miss it.


	12. Return

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your patience!

Patton tried to contact V through the rest of the weekend, against Logan’s advice, but to no avail. The freshman had made it clear that he didn’t want to talk. Patton just couldn’t help himself.

“We shall see him on Tuesday,” Logan reminded him on Sunday evening. The two of them were at a café near the college, enjoying some drinks and snacks while they finished up that weekend’s homework.

“I know, but…” Patton sighed, and set the phone that he had once again been staring at to the side. “I just want to clear this whole thing up before then. Roman’s still mad at him, and I still haven’t gotten anything else out of V…. I don’t like it when my friends fight.”

“We can talk to them both on Tuesday,” Logan repeated, putting a hand on Patton’s back.

Patton just shook his head, still upset, and turned back to his homework. He’d been working on it for two hours now, and he still had barely anything written.

…

Patton had a little trouble focusing on his Monday classes. He still hadn’t heard anything more from V, and while he did talk to Roman at lunch, the latter friend wasn’t as worried about V as Patton was.

“I still stand by what I said,” Roman claimed, emphasizing his point with a gesture of his soda. Patton just poked at his food with a fork.

“But—Roman, you didn’t see him when he left, he was—”

“Oh, I saw him, Patton. He dumped his tea on me and sauntered out like it was nothing.”

Patton looked up to pout at his friend, who sighed in turn.

“Look, I get that you like him, and I know you like to see the best in people, but sometimes  _it isn’t there_. We hardly know this guy! You can’t tell me that what he did the other day paints him in a good light.”

Patton set down his fork, staring at his plate for a couple seconds. “Maybe not,” he admitted. “But you didn’t have to push him about the money, and we don’t have all the information….”

“Look, I’m sorry about springing that on him, okay? Is that what you want to hear?” Roman frowned at his friend. “He could have just said he didn’t have the money or something!”

“He doesn’t—,” Patton started, but Roman was already shaking his head.

“He  _chooses_  not to talk, Patton; that doesn’t mean he  _can’t_. Even if he can’t talk, why can’t he write it down?”

That was when Logan showed up, and apparently sensing the mood at the table, he immediately set to changing the topic of conversation. Disney movies were always a safe bet. It was pretty obvious to Patton what his friend was doing, but he allowed it, feigning ignorance.

…

On Tuesday, Patton spent the morning searching for V with no luck. He attended class, but he couldn’t get himself to pay more attention than a token’s effort. He also spent his lunch period looking for his friend, until Logan came up to him. He handed Patton an apple and very sternly ordered him to eat it. Afterwards, Patton practically sprinted to American History, wanting to find V and make sure he was okay.

Unsurprisingly, as he showed up even earlier than Logan, V wasn’t there. But as the start time for the class approached, the quiet freshman still didn’t show. Patton couldn’t help but shift nervously in his seat. Where was he?

Roman came in about a minute before 1, chatting with one of the other theatre students about something or other. Patton wasn’t paying attention.

Class began, and V still wasn’t there.

 _Maybe he’s just late_ , Patton told himself.  _People are late sometimes_.

Fifteen minutes into the class, Patton looked over at Roman. The junior had also noticed V’s absence, and Patton was just a little satisfied to see that he looked uncomfortable.

Afterwards, Patton really just wanted to go home, and he nearly forgot that he was supposed to go to the animal shelter tonight.

Playing with puppies could always make him feel better!

And it did, of course, because puppies are great, but Patton couldn’t help but glance at his phone occasionally, still hoping for another text from V.

None came.

…

V didn’t show up to class on Thursday, either. Roman wouldn’t meet Patton’s eyes.

They skipped movie night that Friday.

…

The next week, when Tuesday came around again, Patton trudged up the stairs to the American History classroom. He didn’t have much hope of seeing V there, and the fact that two of his friends were fighting was really wearing on him.

He pushed open the door five minutes before class began, and gave a half-hearted glance around the room. No V.

But then, just as Dr. Grant, the professor, was pulling up the PowerPoint for that day’s class, the door opened, and  _there he was_. Patton sat up straight in his chair.

V looked… different. His hoodie was gone for the first time since Patton had met him, revealing his skinny frame, and he was wearing different shoes than Patton remembered ever seeing him in. His eyeshadow was even more striking than usual. V sauntered in like he owned the place, a determined glint in his eyes. He paused only to slap something on a startled Roman’s desk before he sat down in an empty spot in the back of the room. No one spoke for a moment, until finally Dr. Grant cleared his throat and began the lecture.

Patton bit his lip and looked over at Roman’s desk. Sitting on top of it was a tattered five-dollar-bill.


	13. Chapter 13

It took Virgil a solid week to work up the will to attend his American History class again.

He couldn’t let his grades slip too far, after all—he couldn’t afford to lose his scholarship, and besides, what was the point of paying for college if you weren’t actually going to attend the classes?

Virgil would be lying if he said he wasn’t also determined to start going to class again because each day he didn’t go felt like he was letting Roman win.

And now it was Monday, the night before the dreaded day, and Virgil couldn’t stop pacing back and forth.

“Guuuurrrllll,” said Remy, staring mournfully at him. “Sit your bony butt _down_.” He took a drink of coffee, looking at Virgil over the rims of his sunglasses.

Virgil just huffed, running his hands through his hair.

“Come on, what’s the worst that could happen?”

Virgil shot him a look.

“Okay, what’s the worst that could _realistically_ happen? Come on, girl, I’m too tired to deal with this right now.”

“Then go to bed,” Virgil snapped with only a second or so’s delay.

Remy let out a world-weary sigh, letting his head drop dramatically against the back of his chair. Virgil took that to mean his insomnia wouldn’t let him sleep.

Virgil chewed his lip for a moment, still pacing. “Y—you know, maybe it would be easier if—if you didn’t drink so much coffee,” he said.

“Blocked,” Remy quipped. Virgil snorted.

“Okay, look, maybe you can make, like, a plan or something.”

Virgil raised an eyebrow, hesitating in his pacing for a second.

“Like, maybe you don’t show up early. So this drama nerd you’re avoiding can’t talk to you.”

Virgil shrugged, resuming his pacing. Remy, still looking up at the ceiling, said, “You said you’ve got the money to pay the guy, right?”

Virgil made an affirmative noise in response. He’d said that in a text message, but close enough.

Remy sat up straight and gestured towards Virgil with his cup. “Alright, so here’s what you do,” he said seriously.

…

Remy’s plan was ridiculous, but, honestly, Virgil couldn’t think of a better plan that didn’t involve him either skipping another day or sneaking into class like a wounded dog, so… Remy’s idea it was.

It would be pretty satisfying, anyway, to see the look on Roman’s face.

And it was.

Even if all of Virgil’s confidence and brazenness was a farce.

Even if it probably caused more problems than it solved.

…

As soon as the class ended, Virgil got up to leave, determined to get out of there as quickly as possible, only to turn and see Patton practically running towards him. He took a half step back, his eyes widening, half-expecting the sophomore to launch himself at him in a hug.

While that was clearly exactly what Patton wanted to do, Virgil watched as his friend slowed down and stopped in front of him with some effort.

They stared at each other for a second.

“Are you okay?” Patton whispered.

Virgil nodded, not knowing what else to do.

“Can… can I hug you, kiddo?”

Virgil didn’t respond, but he also didn’t refuse, and Patton seemed to take this as consent, Virgil felt the other’s warm arms wrap slowly around him, giving him plenty of time to pull away if he wanted to. Virgil didn’t, and he felt Patton’s arms tighten around his shoulders.

Virgil looked up, seeing Logan waiting calmly at the front of the class, chatting with Talyn. Joan was still putting their things away in their backpack. He saw Roman walking past, holding the five-dollar-bill that Virgil had slapped on his desk crumpled in his hand. He looked annoyed.

After a few moments, Patton pulled away from Virgil and gave him a hesitant smile. “Mind if I walk out with you?”

Virgil shrugged again, and he, Patton, Logan, Talyn, and Joan walked out of the building together. Virgil could sense the uncomfortableness each of them felt with Roman’s absence, and Virgil looked down as he hunched his shoulders self-consciously.

But then he forgot all that.

Lying on the ground, scattered partway down the hallway where other students’ footsteps had carried the pieces, was what was left of the torn-up five-dollar-bill.

…

Patton saw the torn-up bill at the same time as his friend. “V, wait—” he started, only to flinch as the freshman suddenly threw his textbooks on the ground in rage. They all jumped, and Talyn let out a little cry of surprise. Logan covered his ears for a moment with a wince.

He removed them as V started to move. “V!” Logan called, watching along with the rest of them as their friend briskly marched down the hallway, leaving the rest of them frozen there in shock.

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no,” Patton mumbled under his breath.

…

Roman stalked out of the building, fuming. V just had to humiliate him, didn’t he? He could have just handed over the money, and everything would have been fine!

Roman let out a growl in the back of his throat, leaning against the side of the building. He pinched the bridge of his nose, frustrated.

There was another feeling nagging at him, but Roman was too annoyed to chase down what it was.

He didn’t have too much time to dwell, though, because that was when V decided to make an appearance.

“Hey!” the rarely-vocal student snapped. Roman looked up just as V grabbed his shoulder and pushed him, making him hit the brick building.

“What?” he snapped, straightening his jacket out. “What could Mr. High-and-Mighty possibly have to say to me?”

V stared at him, anger in his eyes. Roman could see his jaw working. Was he chewing gum or something?

V just made a frustrated sound, shoved Roman again, harder this time, and left.

Roman hit the building and fell on his butt. He picked himself up, dusted off his crimson jacket, and watched V leave with a glare.

His friends came out of the building then, having just missed the confrontation.

“Roman!” a voice snapped, and Roman turned to see an unusually angry-looking Patton standing there. His cheeks were pink, his fists on his hips. “Why did you tear up the money?”

Roman growled again. “That self-important jer—,” he started, only for Patton to stomp his foot and cut him off.

“He was trying to pay you back, don’t you get that?”

“He didn’t have to do it like _that_ ,” Roman snapped.

“Perhaps not,” Logan broke in. He was holding V’s textbooks, Roman noticed. “But I do believe you could have also handled the situation better.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is the first time I've written from Roman's perspective. That's weird.


	14. Chapter 14

Virgil’s dad was calling.

He considered letting it go to voicemail, but that would just make his dad worry, and the last thing Virgil felt he needed was for his dad to show up at his college. He didn’t even live in the same state—they didn’t have the money for that. So, Virgil picked up, although he didn’t speak.

“Hey, Virgil! How have you been doing?”

 **Oh, you know. The usual. Having panic attacks, skipping class, gradually making everyone hate me**.

“Not talking today? That’s alright. Can you make a noise or something so I know you’re there?”

Virgil tapped twice on the back of his phone case with his fingernail. Virgil waited to cross the street he was on, imagining the small smile on his dad’s face at the response. He was on his way to the record shop at the moment. He had work tonight whether or not he felt like being around people.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been able to call you in a bit. Things have been crazy at work, and, well, there was a bit of a situation. But everything’s handled; don’t worry about it.”

Virgil frowned at that. He wanted to ask for some details, but, unsurprisingly, found he could not.

“Do you have work tonight?”

Virgil hesitated for a second, then tapped twice on the phone case again. As he had hoped, his dad interpreted that as a yes.

“Do you like it there?”

Virgil took a second to dash across the street. Once on the other side, he made a noncommittal noise in his throat.

“Well, maybe you’re just not used to it yet.”

**Maybe.**

The two of them chatted (well, Virgil’s dad chatted and Virgil occasionally tapped on the phone or made a noise as a sort of reply) until Virgil got to the record shop.

“Gotta go,” he managed to say, albeit in a soft, very breathy voice.

“Okay. Bye, Virgil! I hope work goes well tonight.”

…

Roman got home later than usual. His mother asked a few concerned questions in Spanish, but Roman waved her off. He also refused his brother’s request to play video games together for a bit, instead turning and heading straight upstairs. He made it into his room and shut the door behind him.

Roman dropped his bookbag on the floor, then shrugged off his jacket. He pulled off his shirt, and turned to look at his back in his floor-length mirror. A bruise was already forming where his shoulder had hit the brick building.

He sighed, inspecting the bruise for a second or two, before pulling his shirt roughly back on. He had homework to do.

…

Patton lay down on his couch, staring up at the ceiling of his living room. Strings of fairy lights crisscrossed it, casting a soft glow on everything. He was trying to figure out what to do about his friends. He wanted Roman and V to make up so badly; he wanted to know what exactly had gone wrong; and most of all, he just wanted everyone to be okay.

Patton sighed, turning onto his side. His homework, practically untouched, sat on the coffee table before him.

The only thing he could think to do was get V and Roman to talk to each other, but with their current feelings about each other, that seemed like a tall ask. There was also the matter of V’s reluctance to speak at all.

He wished he could consult Logan about it, but Logan was at the college still, tutoring lower level psychology students. He couldn’t talk to Joan or Talyn, either, since Joan was studying for a test, and he was pretty sure that Talyn was planning to go see a movie that afternoon.

Maybe he could try texting V again? The worst that could happen would be a lack of a response. He grabbed his phone.

 **Patton:** Hey, V, can we talk?

He waited for a bit, or more like ten minutes, but he got no response. Maybe V was busy. Patton didn’t know his schedule very well. He could very well be at work, or studying, or doing any number of other things. Patton locked his phone, glancing towards his homework again. He supposed he should at least attempt to get it done.

…

Psychology tutoring seemed to be taking longer than usual today.

Logan waited for the student he was currently working with, a freshman who was taking an introductory psychology course to fill one of her gen. ed. requirements, to finish working on a worksheet so that he could look it over. He glanced over at his bag, out of which protruded a recently checked out book on conflict resolution.

Logan wasn’t good at interacting with people in general, let alone getting them to get along with each other. So, like most problems, Logan turned to books in an attempt to solve it.  

…

Patton was just putting the finishing touches on a drawing he was working on for his art class when he heard his text tone ring out. He dropped his pencil and reached for the phone hopefully.

 **< 3 V <3**: Library 20 min?

He hurriedly typed out a reply.

 **Patton** : I’ll be there!!

Patton paused only to grab his backpack and keys before hurrying out the door. The library wasn’t that far from his apartment, but Patton wasn’t risking missing V.

He arrived early, of course, so he just went to sit on a little half-wall that bordered the walk up to the building and wait for his friend.

Twenty-two minutes after V sent his original message, Patton spotted the freshman coming up the path. His head was down, dark hair hanging in his face. His hoodie was still missing. Patton wanted to jump up and run to him, but he let V approach him.

V hopped up onto the wall at his side, keeping a little more than a foot of distance between them.

“I have your textbooks,” Patton said. He reached for his bag and pulled them out. “Logan left them with me.”

V grunted, but he didn’t reach for the books, so Patton just set them between them. There was a short pause.

Then, suddenly, as if wanting to get it over with before he lost his nerve, V pulled something out of his pocket and thrust it towards Patton. It was a sheet of paper, folded up.

“Oh---um, thanks, kiddo,” Patton said. He carefully unfolded it. V had written a note on it. The handwriting was a bit scratchy, but he could still figure out what it said. It was pretty short, but Patton guessed that it took a lot of effort to write.

_Patton_

_Sorry I worried you. I didn’t know what say._

_I know I don’t talk a lot but I don’t think I’m better than you. It’s just hard sometimes. I don’t know._

_Sorry_

_V_

Patton looked up from the paper and over at V. He was looking resolutely at the sidewalk, his shoulders hunched, fingers gripping the concrete wall they were sitting on like a lifeline.

…

“Oh, V,” Patton murmured, and the other student tensed even more.

But… Patton didn’t sound angry, or pitying, or annoyed, or disbelieving. He just sounded sad.

“Could—could you tell me what happened that night?” There was a short pause. “And what happened to your hoodie?”

Virgil bit his lip. He didn’t like being reminded of the garment’s absence. Not only was it rather chilly outside (it was almost October, after all), but Virgil felt very exposed without the oversized hoodie, which was not helpful in this situation. And what was he supposed to tell Patton about that night? That he panicked, passed out, and nobody came to help him? How would that help anything?

Patton seemed to take his lack of a response as a no. “Well, you can always talk to me, kiddo, or—or write, or whatever. Okay?”

Tears were threatening to fall, but Virgil fought them away. He ducked his head once as an affirmation.

“Do you want to just sit here for a bit?”

Virgil took out a pencil and scribbled on a blank part of the paper he’d brought. _I have to go back to work._

“Oh. Okay. Well, I’m really glad you came to talk to me,” Patton said. Virgil was aware that the sophomore was keeping his voice soft, possibly in a subconscious attempt to not frighten him away.

Virgil nodded tersely, hopped off the wall, and started off back towards the record shop with barely a pause to grab his textbooks. He could feel Patton’s eyes on him until he turned a corner and was hidden from view.


	15. Conflict Resolution

Virgil’s break was over, and he was back at work. Currently, he was sorting through recently arrived records and placing them on their corresponding shelves in the shop. His hands were shaking slightly as he did so. A part of him couldn’t believe that he’d actually opened up to Patton, as little as it may have been. Patton hadn’t seemed judgmental, but what if he told Logan about it? Or worse, Roman? Virgil wasn’t guaranteed a positive reaction from either of them. Maybe it would have been better to say nothing at all.

Virgil paused a moment, ran a hand through his hair, and then continued sorting the records.

To be fair, he had to admit, he hadn’t actually told Patton anything new. He knew that Patton had already figured out that his lack of speech wasn’t always by choice, so all he had really done was confirm it.

 _It’ll be fine_ , Virgil tried to tell himself as he worked.  _It’ll be fine._

But he couldn’t help but be nervous.

…

Patton stayed seated where he was for some time after V’s departure. He reread the short note his friend had left for him several times, although he had long since memorized it.

V had confirmed Patton’s beliefs, that he was indeed trying to talk to them, but that “it’s just hard sometimes”. Patton wasn’t sure what exactly V meant by that, but he knew that he believed the freshman’s words. It could be shyness, or some sort of speech impediment, or some other issue, but Patton was more sure than ever that Roman was wrong. V wasn’t not talking because of some superiority complex, or aloofness. He just couldn’t.

Patton and Roman were going to have to have a talk.

…

According to the book Logan had checked out, the steps to proper conflict resolution were as follows:

1.       Identify the root problem

2.       Come up with potential solutions

3.       Evaluate solutions critically

4.       Choose the “best” or most fair solution to all parties

5.       Implement changes

6.       Set a future date to evaluate the results

It sounded easy enough when the book put it like that. Each section had a lengthy description and example scenarios, but Logan felt that these six simple steps should be a straightforward guide.

The only issue was how to get Roman and V together to actually resolve their conflict. Logan took out his phone and texted the person he felt most capable of helping him with this.

…

Patton and Logan met up on that same half-wall where Patton and V had been talking, since it was a short trip for Logan and Patton could simply wait for him there.

“V was just here,” Patton informed his friend as the latter settled himself onto the wall beside him. “We had a talk.”

“About what?”

Patton messed with a loose thread on his khakis. “Well, I don’t think I should say specifically, but he seems like he also wants to solve this problem.”

Logan nodded. “Good.”

With a little help from Logan’s steps for conflict resolution, the two sophomores came up with the beginnings of a plan. And while a part of Logan felt that Patton was just humoring him by referencing the library book, he appreciated the effort.

Because neither of them felt that Roman and V would be willing to talk to each other just yet, they decided that Patton would talk to one of them, and Logan to the other. That way, they could get a better idea of what exactly the underlying issue to the conflict was, and from where each side of the argument was coming.

“If we were to speak to both of them at the same time,” Logan reasoned, “they would likely be too busy arguing or otherwise distracted by their emotions on the matter for us to have a productive discussion.”

Patton and Logan planned to compare notes at this point, then speak to each friend again about what they had heard from the other side.

“And then they can come up with a solution together!” Patton said, swinging his legs so that his heels tapped gently against the concrete.

“Precisely,” agreed Logan, pleased. “After that, all that remains is implementing said solution and monitoring the outcome.”

Patton turned to look up at him, pale green eyes glinting in the evening light. Logan looked away slightly, never a huge fan of eye contact himself, but Patton only asked, “So, who should talk to who?”

“Who should talk to whom,” Logan corrected automatically, then winced slightly at himself.

“Maybe you could talk to Roman and I could talk to the kiddo?”

Logan thought a second. “Actually,” he said, “I was thinking that it might be better if you speak to Roman. His perspective on this matter seems more innately related to his emotions than V’s; and as you know, emotions and I…” Logan grimaced, and he heard Patton giggle beside him.

“They’re the bane of your existence?” Patton suggested, referencing something that Logan had said not long after they’d first met.

Logan allowed his grimace to melt into a smile. “Exactly.”

“Okay. I can talk to Roman, then, and you can talk to V. Be nice to him, though, okay?”

Logan was a little hurt by the implication that that wasn’t a given, but thankfully, Patton didn’t seem to pick up on it. “Of course.”

…

On Wednesday, after their classes had ended for the day, Patton and Logan put their plan to action.

“You don’t need me to come with to talk to V, right? I could always talk to Roman later,” Patton checked.

“I’ll be fine. Go find Princey,” Logan said, taking out his phone to send a text to V. Patton nodded, then turned to look for their other friend. V had already agreed to talk to Logan, Patton knew, even if he had seemed rather reluctant about it. Patton hoped Roman would also be willing.

The young man in question seemed a little confused when Patton walked up to him. It was possible that “marched determinedly towards him and stopped less than a foot away” would also be an accurate description for his approach, but who could say?

“Patton?”

“We need to talk.”

Roman sighed, clearly knowing what this was about. “Look, I don’t—.”

“Please?” Patton put on his best puppy dog eyes, and of course, Roman was not immune.

“Fine.”

The two of them walked to an empty part of campus, sitting under a large tree behind one of the academic buildings. Patton had suggested that they go to one of their homes to talk, but Roman claimed that this was faster.

“My brother likes to eavesdrop, anyway,” Roman added.

…

“So,” Patton began carefully once they were both settled comfortably, “I would like to talk to you about this whole thing with V.”

“I know,” Roman sighed.

“Can you tell me your side of things?”

“Okay, fine. How about this? You show up with a guy we don’t know who dresses like he only shops at Emos R Us, never deigns to talk to us, and refuses to pay for his food; and you tell us to be friends? A guy who dumped a glass of tea on me and walked out when I tried to get him to pitch in? Are you going to tell me I should thank him for that?”

“I’m just here to hear your side of things,” Patton said. “Why do you think V didn’t want to help pay?”

“I don’t know,” Roman said. “Maybe he feels entitled to free stuff just because he graces us with his presence. Maybe he’s just been having fun messing with us. I don’t know! He could have tricked you into thinking he had a panic attack at the ceremony back in August, and remember that first movie night when he kept refusing all the movies? And do you think it’s a coincidence he dumped  _black tea_  on my  _white_  prince costume?” Roman growled in his throat. “And then he has the nerve to throw that money in my face like he’s mocking me!”

Patton was silent when Roman finished, a frown on his face. After a few moments, in which Roman quietly seethed and slowly tore up several innocent leaves, Patton spoke in a quiet voice.

“He didn’t fake the panic attack. I was there, and I’m sure of it.” He looked up towards Roman’s face. “Also, about the tea… it looked more to me like he dropped it on you, not like he was throwing it at you on purpose. I think it might have been an accident.”

“I thought you were just here to hear my side?”

“I am,” Patton confirmed, “but Logan’s talking to V right now, and once we have his side, we can figure out how to—,” he broke off, looking down as his phone started to ring.

“Sorry,” Patton said with an apologetic look. He went to turn off the phone, but he stopped in confusion when he saw the contact name. Why was Logan calling? Patton held up one finger towards Roman, then picked up the phone.

“Hello?”

“Oh, Patton, good,” the voice on the other end said, sounding relieved. “I believe I may require your assistance after all.”

“Logan, I’m still talking to—.”

“As soon as possible, please,” Logan interrupted, his tone slightly strained.

Patton’s concerned gaze met Roman’s questioning one. He smiled apologetically.

“Okay, I'm coming. Where are you?”


	16. Conflict Resolution pt2

Logan let V choose the meeting place, so now he was on his way to one of the parks near the college. The park was nearly empty, so thankfully, V was not hard to find.

He was sitting on a swing, swinging slowly back and forth and staring down at the ground. His shoes scuffed in the dirt. He still wasn’t wearing his hoodie.

“V?” Logan ventured as he approached.

V’s head ducked slightly in acknowledgment, so Logan took a seat on the swing at his side.

“How are you?” he asked.

There was a short silence. Then, “Pat—Patton told you, right? Just get… get whatever you’re gonna say over with.”

“Patton informed me that you had reached out to him,” Logan admitted, “although he did not share any specifics about your conversation. Only that he feels that you seem willing to work out this issue with Roman.”

V was silent.

“I would like to hear your point of view on the argument. Patton and I wish to aid you and Roman to mend your relationship, but it would be of great aid to know your perspective and your understanding of what the problem is.”

V remained silent.

Logan tapped his fingers against the chain of the swing. “I understand that you do not speak much,” he began. “However, it would help us if you would.” Logan bent down and ruffled through his backpack. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw V peeking at what he was doing.

“I do speak sign language,” Logan offered, “as I had a friend in high school with hearing difficulties. However, if you do not speak that language, or if you would find it preferable, I also brought a pad of paper on which you may write to communicate.” He held out said pad of paper and a pen to V, who accepted them after a short hesitation.

 _I already know what the problem is,_ he scrawled. _I f*cked everything up_.

Logan frowned. “In what way did you… mess everything up? I would appreciate an elaboration, if you are willing.”

V tapped the pen repeatedly on the paper, increasing in intensity until Logan feared he would tear through the page. Then he stopped. Seeming to have made up his mind about something, V began to write.

…

Virgil slowly began to scribble on the page, swallowing down the lump rising in his throat.

 _I’m a mess and Roman’s right to hate me,_ he wrote.

“V, no.…” Logan murmured. “You do not deserve hatred." After a second, he asked, "Could you please explain what you believe has caused the problem between you and Roman? Patton and I are trying to understand, so that we can fix things.”

Virgil tapped the pen three times on the page, then started writing again.

_I can’t talk, okay? I don’t know why, I just can’t. It looks like I’m not even trying and I can’t even f*cking explain that I am!_

His hand was shaking, so he pressed the pen harder down on the paper. He knew his writing was quite hard to read, but he couldn’t seem to write more legibly at the moment. Logan leaned a bit closer to make it out.

_I don’t know how to explain it._

Logan sounded a little bewildered when he responded. “But… I have heard you speak before. What do you mean by saying you ‘can’t talk’?”

_Sometimes I can and sometimes I can’t. It’s like my jaw won’t open and the words get stuck in my throat._

Logan was nodding slowly. “I’m not sure I understand, but I’ll try to.”

Virgil set the tip of the pen on the paper, biting his lip.

“Could you tell me what happened during that last movie night?”

Virgil stiffened. He had known that it would come up, of course he had; but he still didn’t want to talk about it. And yet, if he didn’t, Virgil very well could lose all of his friends. Virgil knew that his odds of making new ones were not exactly favorable, either.

He started to write. The first stroke was done so stiffly that it tore slightly through the page, but he kept going.

 _I didn’t have the money to pay Roman_ , he wrote, already feeling his eyes burn, _but I couldn’t say it. I tried to get out but he was in my face and I just—_

Part of his writing smudged at this point as a tear escaped and fell on the page, but Virgil knew that Logan had already read it.

 _I just wanted to leave and then the glass fell out of my hand_. Virgil took a shuddering breath. _And I got out and—_

Here he paused again, debating whether he really wanted to share this with Logan.

 _And then I woke up in an alley_ , he finished. His shoulders were shaking, and he squeezed his eyes shut, desperately trying not to make a sound.

He was aware of Logan fumbling with his things, of him saying something about calling Patton. Virgil didn’t look up.

He just sat there, tears slowly escaping despite his wishes, as Logan made his call. His little gasps were becoming audible now, and occasionally a small sob escaped him before he could stop it. At some point, Logan finished his call, and then the two of them were waiting for Patton in silence. After a few moments, Virgil felt a hand rest hesitantly on his shoulder. He jumped slightly in surprise, but the hand stayed.

“V, I….” Logan’s voice was halting, and he clearly had no idea what to do.

Virgil didn’t offer the response, so the two of them remained in silence until they heard a car approaching.

…

“You brought Roman?” Logan called out as the car came to a stop.

“He wanted to come, and I figured we didn’t have time to argue,” Patton said, barely pausing to lock the car before jogging across the grassy lawn towards the swing set. “What happened?”

“He is… experiencing emotions,” Logan explained, knowing that he was doing a bad job of it. “I didn’t know what to do.”

Patton knelt down in front of V’s swing, looking up at him. “Hey, kiddo, what’s going on?”

V didn’t say anything, but a couple more tears escaped.

“No, no no no, don’t do that,” Patton said. “It’s okay. Nobody’s angry at you. You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to.” He took one of V’s hands hesitantly, hoping it wouldn’t be pulled away. It wasn’t. Patton noticed the writing on the pad in V’s lap. “Is it okay if I read what you wrote there, kiddo?”

V’s breath started coming a little faster, so Patton quickly backtracked. “I don’t have to! We can just sit here together for a bit; would that be better?”

V nodded stiffly, and Patton crossed his legs, settling himself more comfortably on the ground in front of V’s swing.  He glanced back towards the car. Roman was leaning against the passenger side door, watching them. Patton couldn’t make out his expression. He turned back to V.

“What happened?” he asked, addressing Logan.

“I asked him about the issue, and about the movie night that sparked our current situation.”

Patton nodded. He understood how that could make V upset, even if he didn’t have all the details yet. He squeezed V’s hand, and then they all just sat there for a while. Roman wandered over eventually, standing a little ways behind Patton. He seemed conflicted about what to do.

It seemed that they might be there a while, but Patton was okay with waiting.

…

Roman had been pacing back and forth for a while now. Virgil tracked his movements without actually lifting his head.

 **Nobody’s making you stay, you know**.

Logan was still on the swing to his left, and Patton had moved to the one on his right so that he was no longer sitting on the ground. Virgil’s hands, in his lap, more or less obscured the words he had written on Logan’s writing pad.

He wasn’t quite sure why, but the idea of sharing that information with Patton was even more daunting than sharing it with Logan had been.

 _You have to, though,_ a nagging voice in his head told him.

 _No, I don’t,_ he argued.

But he had already told Logan, and Patton was bound to find out eventually either way. There was no point anymore in waiting, and besides, he was starting to squirm uncomfortably over the fact that everybody was just waiting on him for so long.

Virgil lifted his head slightly. Cleared his throat as a way of testing his voice.

“You—you can read it,” he mumbled, lifting his hands.

Patton looked up, gave him a reassuring smile, and then very carefully took the pad of paper from Virgil’s lap. There was a short silence as Patton read, then a small gasp as he reached the end.

“Oh, _kiddo_.”


	17. Amends

Not long after Patton and Logan found out about what had been going on with V, and what had really happened at the infamous movie night, everyone departed the park. Logan and V each drove home separately, and Patton drove Roman back to campus to fetch his car. Along the way, the two of them had a talk.

Patton never looked at Roman, just talking as he drove and keeping his tone neutral.

Roman already felt conflicted about things, having of course seen how upset V had looked at the park. Nevertheless, at first, as Patton explained what he and Logan claimed to have discovered about V, Roman felt defiant and self-defensive. However, while a part of him wanted to break in and justify himself, he knew that Patton would only silence him. And anyway, the longer Patton spoke, the less defiant Roman felt. Instead he felt… shame.

The story about being unable to talk at certain times had seemed a little ridiculous at first, but Roman realized that it actually made a lot of sense. He recalled when V had confronted him outside of their American History course. V had only been able to say one word (“Hey!”) and then had looked to be chewing gum or something of the like. Roman supposed that that could have been a sign that V was fighting to get words out.

And, oh, when Patton got to that awful movie night. Roman actually covered his face when Patton, his voice shaking slightly, recounted that part of the story. When he revealed that V had, upon not being able to pay for his pizza, apparently had a panic attack and passed out in an alleyway. And none of them had found him, let alone helped.

And then Roman had gone and torn up the money when V had tried to pay him back (even if V had done so in a rather rude way).

Roman had to make this right.

**…**

Roman wasn’t in class on Thursday.

None of them—Logan, Patton, and Virgil—had seen him since the day before, when they all departed from the park. Logan and Virgil had each driven home alone, but Patton told Virgil that he and Roman had had a talk as Patton drove him back to campus to get his car.

“He seemed kind of conflicted,” Patton admitted after class. The three of them were leaving the building together. “He didn’t say much while I was explaining things to him.”

“What did you tell him?” Virgil had asked.

“Just the truth, kiddo.” Virgil had groaned at that, but Patton at least had the grace to look slightly ashamed. “He deserves to know, V.”

Virgil supposed that maybe that was true, but why did everyone have to know everything? Who was going to take him seriously knowing how pathetic he was?

**Damn it.**

“I still do not understand why he did not attend class,” Logan commented.

“Well… I don’t really know, either,” Patton shrugged. “Maybe he needed some time to think about things.”

“He could be sick,” Logan supposed.

Virgil raised an eyebrow, glancing back at Logan. They all knew Roman wasn’t sick.

Besides, even if he was, Virgil was pretty sure he would show up anyway. Roman didn’t seem like the type to miss class for an illness, especially not a mild one. Besides, Roman had seemed just fine on Wednesday.

Logan didn’t seem to understand what Virgil was trying to convey, so Virgil just sighed and looked back ahead. They were almost at the entrance now.

“Well, have a good night, everybody,” Patton said, looking at his friends with a smile. The three of them parted ways, but as he walked to his car, Virgil couldn’t help but keep an eye out for Roman’s signature crimson jacket. There was no sign of it.

…

It was Friday night.  

They were skipping movie night again. No one had said so, but Virgil knew. Patton knew. Logan knew. And Joan and Talyn, of course, knew too. Joan had just texted Patton to confirm—the only one to actually decide it was worth doing so.

Besides, the group of friends still had yet to hear anything from Roman. Apparently, he hadn’t gone to any of his classes since Wednesday. Logan was still claiming that sickness was a possibility, but Virgil could tell that even he didn’t believe that. They all knew Roman was avoiding them. One of them in particular.

At the moment, Virgil was at his apartment, just scrolling through random social media. He’d gotten off of work about an hour before, and he was looking forward to getting to just relax for a bit and try to forget about what was going on. He was about to start watching a vine compilation when his phone screen lit up with a text message notification.

 **Princey:** This is Roman. Dont know if u deleted my #.

 **Princey** : Can we talk???

Virgil stared at the messages uncertainly.

 **Princey** : V?

His fingers hovered noncommittally over the keyboard before quickly typing and sending a curt reply.

 **V** : Sup princey

 **Princey** : Am I still Princey in ur phone?

 **Princey** : Nvm, not important. I want to talk to u.

 **V** : here I am

 **Princey** : No no like TALK to u.

Ugh. Virgil didn’t feel like going anywhere. He was tired from class and work, and besides, why did he have to go out just to get lectured again?

 **Princey** : If u give me ur address I could go there

A long pause.

 **Princey** : Pls??

Virgil sighed, running a hand over his face.

 _You know what?_  He thought.  _Fine._  Roman already had such a low opinion of him, what would this matter?

Virgil sent his address.

…

Was this a prank?

Roman was definitely at the right address. He’d checked four times. But… this couldn’t be right. The address V had given him led to a dilapidated old building, with crumbly brown bricks and ivy and broken windows. The lawn leading up to it, where it wasn’t in large dead patches, was overgrown and full of weeds. The sidewalk was a broken leg waiting to happen. V couldn’t live  _here_.

 **V** : What’s taking so long, princey?

 **Princey** : might be at wrong place

 **V** : You’re not.

Well, okay, that was a completely normal and not at all foreboding response. But Roman just shifted the box under his arm and approached the building anyway.

Next to the main door of the building was a panel he could use to request entry from different apartments. He pressed the button labelled 3B—V’s apartment number. Beside it was a white label with R Night, V Thompson written on it. So, V’s last name was Thompson. That was new information.

He waited a few seconds, then heard a buzz, and the lock clicked open. Roman pushed open the door and walked into a dark hallway.

…

V resumed his pacing as soon as he pressed the button to let Roman in. Remy wasn’t home at the moment to stop him, so why not?

There was a knock at the door, and Virgil stopped. He padded up to the door and looked through the peephole. Of course, it was Roman, so he opened the door.

“Um… hi,” Roman said, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else at that exact second. Virgil could relate.

Virgil took a half step back, then waved Roman in in a lackadaisical manner as he walked back into the main room. He heard the creak of a floorboard as the junior stepped inside, then the door shutting with a click.

Virgil cleared his throat, hummed a second, and then spoke. “What’d you come to say?” he asked, glad that his voice decided to cooperate for once. “Just get it over with.”

He flopped down on the couch, looking up at Roman expectantly. To his slight surprise, the other student just shuffled over to the couch and sat beside him—not too close, but still.  Virgil noticed for the first time that he had a box (a gift box?) with him.

“I’m sorry,” Roman said simply.

Virgil stared at him.

“Patton told me about—about what happened. And I….”

Virgil nodded. He knew about their conversation.

“I had everything so wrong. And I hope you can forgive me.” He moved the box from his side so that it was sitting on his lap. “And, well… I know this doesn’t fix things, but… but, um….” For once, it was Roman having trouble with words. The tips of his ears were starting to turn red. He thrust the box towards Virgil. “You know, maybe it’s better if you just open it.”

Virgil took the box, raising an eyebrow at Roman questioningly. He put the gift box on his own lap, and after a second’s hesitation, slowly untied the bow and removed the wrapping paper. He opened the box.

…

Roman was watching him carefully, but V didn’t seem to react. He was just staring into the box. Roman tried to stammer out an explanation.

“I, um… You never told Patton what happened, but… I can’t help but assume it has to do with me. So… so I… I decided to try to at least make something right.”

V reached into the box, and pulled out a carefully folded bundle of fabric.

“It’s…. I have to admit I found the old one a bit drab. So I… I saw your new shoes, and I noticed that the laces are sort of purple. And I just… kind of ran with that.”

Roman’s heart was pounding, and gosh, he was nervous. Why wasn’t V reacting? Did he hate it? Did he just hate Roman too much to accept his apology?

V let the garment unfold in his hands, so he was holding up his new hoodie, in all its purple and black angsty glory, in front of him.

Roman shifted uncomfortably, and he tried to look any sign of what the younger man was thinking.

And then he noticed—V wasn’t staring at the garment in disgust, or disdain, or boredom. He looked almost mesmerized. He ran a thumb over the white stitches that held one of the purple plaid patches in place. He inspected the sleeves and found the zippers that ran down them from the elbow to the wrist.

V put it on.

He smiled.

And Roman couldn’t help but smile back.


	18. Things go Right

Virgil pulled the new hoodie snug around him. It fit him better than his old one had. Had Roman really made this for him? Was that where he’d been the past two days? He probably would have accepted just the apology.

An idea occurred to him. But should he do it? Was it really a good idea?

Perhaps he shouldn’t overthink it too much, or his jaw would lock up on him.

“It’s Virgil,” he mumbled suddenly.

Roman looked over, confused. “What?”

“My name,” Virgil repeated, with only a miniscule increase in volume. “It’s Virgil.”

“Virgil?” Roman stared at him for a second, as if caught off guard, and for a second Virgil thought he might start laughing. Virgil started twisting the ends of his new hoodie’s sleeves in his fingers. He knew it was a dorky name, but it was _his_ name! He didn’t know if he could take it if Roman started laughing, not right after—

“I like it,” Roman said, interrupting Virgil’s thoughts before they could spiral too far.

“Oh… good.” Virgil swallowed, hoping the wave of relief crashing over him hadn’t been too obvious.

...

“So…” Roman said after a while. “Would you want to reinstate movie night?”

Virgil glanced up from his phone, raising an eyebrow. **Are you sure that’s a good idea?**

Roman seemed to catch his meaning. “We don’t have to, I just thought… I mean, I know Patton misses them, and I’m sure Logan does too, no matter what that wet blanket says. Plus, it’d be nice to hang out with Joan and Talyn more.”

Virgil sighed, rubbing his wrist uncertainly. He had to admit it sounded nice. It could be like before everything had gone wrong. Perhaps better, even, now that the others knew that Virgil wasn’t just too arrogant to speak to them. But it could also be very awkward and strained, and what if another fight started? What if they decided Virgil was lying?

“Virgil?” Roman ventured at his side. “What do you think?”

He shrugged.

“We could even do one tonight. It’s Friday, after all. Or… or we could have it tomorrow night, or maybe wait until next week. Whatever works for you.”

Virgil bit his bottom lip. He had to admit it was a little satisfying, seeing Roman basically beg him like this. But that wasn’t why he was drawing this out: he really wasn’t sure.

“We could watch _Nightmare before Christmas_?”

Virgil chewed the inside of his cheek for a few seconds before asking, “D-do you have _The Black Cauldron_?”

Roman looked mildly offended. “You think I would have an incomplete Disney collection?”

Virgil rolled his eyes.

…

The two of them decided that waiting until the next night for their movie night would be better. It would give the others more warning beforehand, since it wasn’t fair to just spring the plans on them. They had probably made other plans for their Friday already.

After only a short while longer, in which time Roman had somehow managed to apologize about fifteen times and check repeatedly that Virgil really did like the hoodie and wasn’t lying, Virgil escorted Roman out of the building.

Virgil, leaning on the door, made a gesture in place of a verbal good-bye.

 “Bye, Virgil. See you tomorrow.”

 “Yep,” Virgil said, nodding awkwardly. “Oh, and Roman?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t tell the others where I live.”

…

Patton had been delighted to hear the news about V and Roman’s reconciliation –and the subsequently planned movie night!—but he had to admit he was nervous. This was their first movie night since the disastrous falling out between Roman and V, and Patton really wanted it to go well. He just wanted them all to be friends again, and for whatever reason, it felt like this movie night was the big deciding factor. He had a right to be apprehensive, though, didn’t he? Patton couldn’t help but dwell on everything that had happened.

Roman said that he had apologized to V, and that V had accepted it, but after such a long, drawn out fight, Patton just couldn’t find it in himself to believe that everything was just going to be okay again.

He sure hoped so, though.

…

Virgil nervously paced up and down the path that led up to the library building, waiting for Patton to arrive and pick him up. He didn’t have any of his school things with him this time, not bothering with the pretense that he had been working in the library. He was too nervous to bother.

“V!!” an excited voice called.

Virgil turned to see Patton, having just parked at the side of the road, closing his car door and jogging up the path towards him. He threw his arms wide, and Virgil found himself enveloped in a tight hug.

Virgil stumbled back a couple paces, bringing his own arms up to return the hug. “P—Patton, hi,” he laughed.

“I love the new jacket, kiddo! Are you ready to go?”

Virgil nodded, and then the two of them returned to Patton’s car. Logan was in the back seat.

“Salutations.”

Virgil made a peace sign in response, getting in the front passenger seat.

…

The three friends arrived at Roman’s house in only a few minutes. Virgil fought the urge to rub the back of his neck, a nervous habit, as they made their way up to the porch.

Roman must’ve seen them approach, as he flung open the door just as Patton was about to knock.

“Welcome, friends!” he said grandly. Virgil noticed he wasn’t wearing his prince costume, but rather, a simple t-shirt and sweatpants. “Come on in!”

Joan and Talyn were already inside, setting up a mass of blankets and pillows in front of the television. An array of refreshments were laid out on the coffee table, including a large bowl of popcorn, two large pizza boxes, an assortment of drinks, and a bowl of Halloween candy. This last was in spite of the fact that it wouldn’t even be October for another week, something Logan was sure to point out but which none of them would actually care about.

To say that that movie night went much better than the last one was an understatement. They had lots of food, watched a few movies ( _The Black Cauldron_ was up first, of course), and the five guests finally met Roman’s brother, a high schooler named Emilio, when he snuck in to steal some candy. Patton immediately invited him to watch one of the movies with them, which none of the others minded, except maybe Roman.

No one made mention of the fight at the last movie night, or of the two very tense weeks that had followed, but Virgil did get plenty of compliments on his new shoes and hoodie. And nobody asked him to pitch in for the pizza.

Just as the credits started rolling for the last movie, Virgil finally told the rest of the group his name.

The reactions were a mixed bag. Virgil thought that Patton might explode from excitement, and Logan went off on a tangent about how Virgil “suited him excellently” due to its resemblance to the word “vigil” and how the name was thought to come from the term “vigilance”—Virgil didn’t even bother questioning at this point why Logan would randomly happen to know such specific information about his name. Talyn only said that it was a nice name, not making as big a deal out of it as some of the others, and Joan just smiled. Roman was clearly trying to pretend that the name was news to him as well, and being the theater nerd he was, knew not to go overboard in the act.

All in all, the movie night hadn’t been a disaster. He had finally revealed his name, and it hadn’t gone as horribly as he feared. He had his friends back, even Roman.

Maybe Virgil could survive this whole college thing after all. 


	19. End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who read this story! I can't believe it's finally finished.  
> Also, just so it's absolutely clear- the college AU will continue! I have more stories planned in the future. It's just Quiet that has ended.

Virgil went back to class the next week feeling uncharacteristically optimistic. Everything seemed to be coming together now that Roman and Virgil had made up (Logan and Patton really deserved some good karma for their part in that). He was in a pretty good mood for once.

His Monday classes went well. Virgil was actually able to answer a question out loud (gasp) in his Spanish class, and as always, he found the material in his chemistry course easy enough. He liked chemistry. He was pretty good at it.

Tuesday afternoon, Virgil returned to American History, looking forward to seeing his friends. Logan gave him a warm smile when he walked in, and Patton cheerily hugged him. Joan and Talyn walked in a little after he did, talking about something or other, but they both paused to greet him.

Virgil wasn’t too worried about the fact that Roman wasn’t there yet. He tended to wait until the last possible moment to show up for class.

And, as expected, Roman did in fact show up just in time. But what happened next wasn’t as expected.

Roman walked in the room at 12:59, as the professor was getting ready to pull up the slideshow he’d made for that day. The older student sauntered up to Virgil’s desk and slapped something loudly onto it before going to sit in the back.

Virgil jerked his head up, a little startled, and looked back to see the goofy grin on Roman’s face. He shook his head in an exasperated fashion before looking down at his desk to see the crisp $5 bill that Roman had left behind.

Virgil’s face turned slightly pink, embarrassed about what had just happened and the result of having the entire class’s attention briefly focused on him. He could see what Roman was trying to do. He was still trying to make things right, doing so in a way that kind of made light of what had happened, turning it into a joke. Virgil might have been mad about that, but he knew that Roman was trying.

 _What a dork_ , he thought.

…

Virgil packed up his things after class. He was a bit slow, and as usual, was one of the last few students in the room.

“Would you mind if I talked to you on the way out?”

Virgil looked up to see Logan standing in front of his desk, his backpack on and textbooks pinned against his chest with one arm. The freshman frowned, a little uncertain about the request.

“It’s nothing bad, I promise. I merely had some thoughts I wished to share with you.”

 **Well… okay, then**. Virgil shrugged and nodded, shouldering his own backpack.

The two of them started out of the building, Logan seeming to take a moment to choose his wording. It made Virgil nervous.

They got to the top of the stairs just as Logan opened his mouth, only to be interrupted by a small popping noise. Logan rolled his eyes.

“One moment, please.” He took off his backpack and knelt on the floor. The clasp that held the bag shut had come undone on its own, his backpack hanging open in result. The young man put his text books on the floor at his feet and redid the clasp.

“You—you might want to get that replaced,” Virgil said, watching.

“Agreed,” sighed Logan, putting he backpack around his shoulders once again. “However, that is a problem for another day.” He looked up at Virgil as he scooped up his textbooks. “I wished to speak to you about your… speech issue.”

Logan got up, and the two of them started down the stairs. Virgil didn’t say anything in reply, but Logan seemed to take the fact that he didn’t sprint away from him as an invitation to continue.

“I did some research over the weekend, and I wanted to talk to you about some options.”

**Would you just spit it out already?**

“I wondered if you might be open to the possibility of seeing a therapist.”

Virgil stopped in the middle of the staircase. Logan looked back, taking in his clearly offended expression.

“Virgil, seeing a therapist is not a bad thing. The way you described your issue leads me to believe that it is not a physical problem, but rather a psychological issue. There is no reason that you shouldn’t be able to improve your condition with time.”

Virgil chewed on the inside of his cheek. “I’m not crazy,” he snapped, finally.

“Of course not,” Logan said. “Plenty of perfectly sane people see therapists to help them work through problems in their lives. I believe that you could also benefit from this.”

Virgil started walking again, faster now, shaking his head and hunching his shoulders.

“I understand why you may not want to see a therapist, and I can not and would not force you into doing something you did not want to do. It was merely a suggestion. It’s clear to me, to all of us, that your speech problem causes you a great deal of trouble. I only wanted to help.”

Virgil stopped at the base of the stairs, waiting for Logan to catch up to him. Virgil had taken the stairs rather quickly in his agitation. Logan preferred a slower pace.

“It’s just something you may want to consider.”

Virgil knew that Logan was just trying to help. He knew that Logan had probably already spent several hours researching on the computer. He guessed that the nerd probably had a folder full of notes and therapist recommendations in his bag, but Logan was so far refraining from pulling them out in an attempt to not overwhelm his friend. But Logan still seemed to be ignoring a glaring problem.

They made it to the front of the building in silence, Virgil using the time to work himself up to speak. Logan seemed to guess that this was the case, and he stayed quiet until Virgil was ready.

“Logan, even if I  _wanted_  to see a shrink…. They’re not cheap. And—and besides, how the hell am I even supposed to talk to them if  _I can’t talk?_  I can—I can still barely talk to you half the time, and we’ve known each other for two months.”

Logan opened the door to the building pensively. “I believe the college has resources available. Perhaps you could try one of them. That would take care of the monetary issue.”

Virgil shrugged.

“You could bring a note to give to them at the first meeting, or perhaps a friend to help facilitate communication, if you would be comfortable with that. I would be willing to attend, and I know Patton would as well, if you would be more comfortable attending with him.”

Virgil let out a long sigh.

“I’ll think about it.”

Logan seemed satisfied with that answer for now. He put a hand on his shoulder warmly, before the two of them parted ways. When he was gone, Virgil’s shoulders slumped.

There was still another problem with Logan’s idea, but Virgil hadn’t particularly wanted to bring it up. Nevertheless, it was a major obstacle to the possibility of him seeking professional help.

Virgil was still seventeen.

Logan probably assumed that he was already eighteen, as would normally be the case for a freshman, but Virgil was an exception. He had skipped kindergarten.

And because he was still technically a minor, his parents would most likely have to be told if he started seeing a therapist, even if it was one of the counselors that the college provided. His father would know, which would be embarrassing and probably result in him hurrying all the way over here in concern, a situation Virgil very much wanted to avoid.

But even worse, his mother would know. Virgil would rather not give her any more artillery to add to her collection. She already had enough opportunities to come after him when the mood struck.

…

“Have you considered my suggestion any further?” Logan asked.

It was noontime on Thursday. Virgil and Logan were eating lunch together before their next class, alone at the moment, but not for long. Patton, Roman, and the others were still getting their food.

Virgil poked at his salad.

“Is something wrong? Have I upset you? It wasn’t my intention.”

Virgil shook his head.  **No, it’s not you, Logan!**

Logan watched him calmly. Virgil rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

Virgil mumbled under his breath, but of course, Logan didn’t understand him.

“What was that?”

“I’m seventeen, Logan,” Virgil admitted, just barely audible this time.

Logan was quick to put together the problem. “I see.”

Virgil shrugged.

Logan had the grace not to ask why Virgil wouldn’t want his parents to know about him seeking help from a therapist.

“When do you turn eighteen?”

“December.”

“That’s not so far away. Perhaps in the meantime I and the rest of your friends could try to help you. A support system can go a long way in helping anyone, not only those who struggle with some degree of mental illness.”

Virgil wanted to argue that he wasn’t mentally ill, but he supposed the evidence was against him on that front. Mentally healthy people didn’t usually pass out from panic attacks, or find themselves unable to speak half the time.

Virgil poked at his salad again, looking down. Patton and Roman came into view, each carrying a food-laden cafeteria tray. They were still out of earshot, but Virgil lowered his voice anyway. He was starting to realize that his friends wouldn’t judge him for this--perhaps they even knew of Logan’s research into the topic. But Virgil was still shy.

“Thanks, Logan.”

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
